Point of Know Return
by mechachic
Summary: Sam finds a way to get Dean out of his deal, but it will cost him his humanity in a way he never expected. Can Sam become something he hunts to save his brother's soul? Not evil or demon!Sam. Set end of Season three and becomes AU.
1. Crossroads

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

A/N: I apologize for the length of this chapter. This one's a bit long for an opener, but I hope you'll give it a shot. Future chapters will be a bit shorter. Also, there will not be any Wincest or slash in this story, just good old brotherly love. Hope you like it!

**Chapter 1: Crossroads**

Dean had been asleep when Sam crept cautiously from the room, careful not to wake his older brother. Why the precaution? Well, Sam couldn't exactly answer that. Truth be told, it was unlikely anything was going to wake Dean up tonight. Not tonight when his brother was passed out cold in a desperate man's drunken stupor. Tonight. The word hung bittersweet in the cold night air, Sam refusing to wrap his mind around it. To speak it out loud would be steel in his mouth, a swift kick to the gut, a lonely and unheard cry in the calmness of the airy night. Because tonight…tonight was Dean's last night. In less than 24 hours his deal would come due and Dean would be lost to the world, lost to Sam, forever. And as grateful as Sam was that his brother still had tonight, Sam desperately wanted him to have tomorrow night too. Tomorrow night, the night after that, the night a week from now, a year from now, hell even 50 years from now. That was all Sam wanted, and he knew Dean would have had it if not for that night in Cold Oak. One night. One night that ruined everything, and that was all it took. Just one. And it would take only one night for his brother to be ripped away from him and thrown into the pits of despair and pain. But not tonight. No, not tonight. Because tonight was the one night when Sam was going to fix everything.

So, there Sam sat on his hands and knees with a pounding migraine, a stomach tight with hunger, and a sense of sadness overtaking him body and soul. An ominous black box rested beside him as he slowly started digging a small, shallow hole in the gravel beneath him and wishing it was a much larger hole that he could just jump into and bury himself in. Surely that would solve all of his problems. Actually, he was pretty certain it would, but Dean would never go for that. His brother had been over this with him a million times. In no way would he accept Sam dying to save his soul. But wasn't that what Sam was doing anyway? But Dean would understand. He had to. Once he explained things, Dean would come around. Wouldn't he? Sure it was a reckless move, but it was 100% fixable. Sam continued to dig silently, all alone in the cold, quiet darkness. He couldn't help but wonder how the world could be so calm when everything was going to hell, when Dean was going to hell. Tonight, Sam was at a crossroads in more ways than one. He only hoped that he really could get Dean to understand what he had done only an hour before.

**~SSSSSSSSSSSNNNNNNN~**

_Tracking them had been difficult. Getting Dean to agree to come to this town had been even more difficult. With only about a day left, Dean had other things in mind. At first Sam had thought it would be girls and final one night stands, alcohol and bars, loud music and cheesy final jokes. However, that wasn't it at all. Really, all Dean wanted was to spend his last few days with his brother. So, convincing Dean to come to small town Ohio for a "hunt" had not been a walk in the park. But hunt or no hunt, time with Sam was time with Sam and it would have to do. And the distraction from the inevitable…well, that couldn't hurt either. Of course, Sam knew that Dean was suspicious of him. He knew that Dean thought he was up to something and that it likely had to do with the deal. Dean always seemed to know those sorts of things. But then again, if the shoe was on the other foot, wouldn't Dean be doing everything possible to get Sam out of the deal? Yet, Sam always knew that Dean believed there was no way out and no time left for Sam to do any real damage, so after much persistence Sam convinced his brother to take the "hunt". Convincing Dean to get drunk out of his mind…now that was a bit easier…considering. Of course, Sam felt guilty about it, but what other option did he have? He couldn't allow Dean to find out about his plan. He couldn't let Dean stop him from leaving. He definitely couldn't risk Dean waking up in the night and realizing his brother had snuck out. Dean would go looking for him, and if he found him, which he most certainly would, that could be dangerous. Even Sam could admit that what he was about to do was the epitome of stupid. When would they ever stop sacrificing themselves for each other? Hopefully, after all of this was over and they were back to their "normal" lives, they could learn to stop. But not now. Not when Dean's deal was coming due. With that, Sam spared one final glance at his sleeping brother and left the hotel._

_It wasn't a long drive out to the cabin, maybe only 15 minutes or so. But it felt like an eternity to a guilty Sam. As he pulled the Impala up to the end of the path and crawled out into the still, wooded area, he sighed with trepidation. This was it. Concealed weapons clinging to his body, Sam approached the wooden door and knocked with more confidence than he felt. At first, there was no answer, no sound from within the dark cabin, and Sam feared he'd have to break the door down. They'd never hear him out if he did something like that, though. He waited. Finally, the door was cautiously opened by a young man with wavy, light brown hair and deep blue eyes. His face was youthful, but sharp, knowing, and wise. He had seen many things in his day, and that was painfully obvious. He took Sam in warily, his gaze shifting from head to foot and back again. He didn't trust Sam. Not one bit. Everything about the well-muscled body, pained yet calculating hazel eyes, and carefully prepared stance screamed hunter. This mystery man inside the safety of his cabin…he was not a hunter, did not like hunters, and did not want them at his door._

"_What are you doing here? What do you want?" the man spat out. Sam raised his hands in surrender, forehead crinkling and eyes softening._

"_Look, I didn't come here to cause any trouble. I need your help," Sam assured him, but the man did not drop his defenses._

"_Don't lie to me, hunter! That's right, I know what you are. I can see it in your eyes. We don't want your kind here!" the man warned. His glare was terrifying even for a skilled hunter like Sam, but this man could help him get Dean out of his deal so there would be no backing down._

"_I understand that, but I am not lying. Please. Just let me explain. I really _really _do need your help. Actually, my brother's life kind of depends on it." The mystery man took in the sincerity in Sam's eyes. Yes, he hated hunters, but this, he was curious about. This one didn't have the same brutality the others he had come across had possessed. Plus, there was something almost pleading in the hunter's expression. He looked like a kicked puppy. This hunter wanted, needed, something. He decided he wanted to know what that was._

"_All right. I'm listening," mystery man stated, posture still on the defensive. Sam released a heavy sigh of relief. You know what they say about getting your foot through the door._

"_Well, you see, my big brother…he's kind of an idiot. Always sacrificing himself for me, getting hurt to save me. I died, and then he made this deal with a demon: my life for his soul. His time is almost up. I need to get him out of it. You're my last hope." Now Sam really was pleading. It was quite the story the young hunter had spun. But then again…maybe it wasn't all that difficult to believe. Mystery man's blue eyes widened with realization and recognition._

"_Winchester. Sam Winchester. And your brother is Dean Winchester." It came out as barely a whisper and a surprised one at that. This time it was Sam's turn to stare._

"_You've heard of me and Dean?" he asked in shock._

"_Well, you're famous," the man informed. "People talk. Word gets around. And these days all that talk is about the Winchester boys."_

"_Is that so?" Sam asked him._

"_Very much so," the man quirked an amused smile. "Well, it isn't every day I get a celebrity at my door. I really don't like hunters, but I have to admit, I am somewhat impressed. You two have quite the reputation, you know." He really did appear to be amused, yet his defensive posture remained intact. "Well, come in then, Sam Winchester." The man stepped aside, still watching Sam closely, and Sam did as he was instructed. Sam glanced around once he was inside. It was small, cluttered, yet clean. But the most noticeable aspect was the four other people in the room. They sat lazily about the place: a raven haired girl strewn out on an old blue couch reading a book, a shy looking young man browsing the net in the corner, and a couple of clean cut youths snuggled together in front of the television. They all looked so young, no older than Sam himself. In fact, they reminded Sam of some of his friends from Stanford. Yet, they were very different. They knew things about a world the kids at Stanford could never even dream of. They experienced things, saw things, were even a part of things. Sam knew they could help. The others looked up when Sam walked in, watching his every breath._

"_So, you know who I am. Do you have a name?" Sam asked and the man smirked back at him._

"_Name's Derek. Bookworm over there is Claire. Computer geek is Marcus. And the two lovebirds are Margot and Ryan. So, what can we do for you, Sam Winchester? I'll admit, we have some knowledge about the darker side of things, but demon deals aren't exactly our forte. Besides, I don't really see why we would want to help you out anyway. What would be in it for us? How do we know we can trust you?" Derek asked seriously. This was not something to be taken lightly. The tension in the air was tight, almost chokingly so. Everyone was on their guard. One wrong move from anyone and things could get ugly. Fortunately, Sam was a good hunter and an even better people person. He knew what he was doing. At least, he really hoped he did._

"_I've got an idea. Trust me, you'll want to hear this. I'm sure you'll find it at least amusing." _

**~SSSSSSSSNNNNNNN~**

Sam finally finished burying the box in the stiff earth of the crossroads. She would be here any minute, another demon bitch like the one that had talked his brother right out of his soul. Well, whoever now held the contract, apparently Lilith, wouldn't be getting a thing. The deal would be null and void, done and over, all but forgotten. Sam had found a loophole in the demons' plans, something they could and would have never banked on. Now, all he had to do was inform the crossroads demon and watch as their little deal disintegrated before his eyes. Everything would be worth it. Dean wouldn't die tomorrow. Sam, well, Sam would be brought back to life after this all blew over. Just 24 hours. He could deal with that. Deal…there's that word again. He had grown to hate that word. He could _handle_ that, he decided instead. Now, where was the red-eyed bitch?

"Well! Well! Look at what we have here. Sam. How nice to see you. Here to beg for your brother's life? You know, that was my sister you killed," an amused voice called out to him from behind. He turned around to face her. Blond hair, small and delicate features, and tiny frame, but frightful red eyes. Sam just glared at the demon coldly.

"Good. If you could feel anything maybe you'd understand what you psychos are doing to my brother and me! But that's too much to ask." Sam practically growled at the demon in front of him. She smiled sweetly back, obviously wanting to play with him a little.

"Oh but we do understand, Sam," she replied sweetly while cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. "We understand perfectly, and we just love it. The messes you two manage to get yourselves into. It's better than cable."

"You bitch!" Sam screamed at the demon, pure rage crossing his features.

"My, my. We are getting dark there aren't we, Sammy? I know you've lost the colt. You can't kill me. Even if you did, it wouldn't do you any good. Dean's time is up after tomorrow. Nothing you can do will stop that. You can't save him, Sam," the demon told him like they were simply having a casual conversation about the weather. She was trying to rile him up, but he wasn't going to let it work. He had to remember why he was here. To her surprise, Sam smiled back at her.

"That's where you're wrong," he informed her smugly. "The deal is off." She watched him curiously. What was he trying to do?

"The deal is on, Sam. Because you see, without that deal you die. I don't think Dean would like that too much, Sam. In fact, I think he'd follow you to the grave pretty quickly. Or just make another deal. Now, if you're offering up your soul…well, sorry there, Sammy. We don't do even trades. If you're asking me to break the contract by killing you…"

"That would be unnecessary," Sam interrupted her. "I've already taken care of that for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Take a real good look," Sam mocked her cheekily. "Do I look like I'm alive to you?" And then for the first time she really looked at the young hunter before her and she gasped at what she saw. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. All of the signs were there: the stillness of his chest from lungs that were no longer taking in air, the pale and icy skin from a heart that no longer pumped blood through his veins, and the frightening flash of his eyes when the moonlight hit them just so. He was right. Dead. Undead. Whatever you wanted to call it there was one undeniable truth. Sam Winchester was definitely no longer among the living.

"But how…?" She gasped, causing his smirk to only grow bigger. "I knew there was something colder about you. Something darker."

"So, I've been thinking about this deal…"

"So you've done something stupid. Killing yourself does not void the deal," she shot back angrily.

"Actually, that's exactly what it does," Sam told her. "My life for Dean's soul. Until you have his soul, the transaction is not complete. If you come for him at midnight tomorrow and I am not living, you can't take my brother's soul. And I can guarantee you, I won't be 'living' tomorrow."

"Very clever, Sam," she applauded amusedly. "You have found a loophole we didn't foresee. But you were pre-law at Stanford, weren't you? You would have made one hell of a lawyer." Sam just watched her a second longer.

"Well, if that's all then, I believe our business is done," Sam said as he turned around and started walking back to the Impala.

"Not so fast there, Sam," the demon called out coyly. "You see, there is just one little problem with this whole thing."

**~SSSSSSSSNNNNNN~**

_Sam was watching the vampires closely for any sudden movements, but none came. They merely watched him curiously. He had done it. Peaked their interest. Now to get them to go along with this._

"_I want you to turn me," the younger Winchester told the nest leader, Derek. His voice was serious, without waver, and his expression dead set. Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by vampires on all sides, second sets of teeth out, eyes glaring holes into him, and only Derek continued to watch him calmly. The blue eyed man chuckled to himself._

"_You want to be a vampire, Sam Winchester? And how does that save Dean?" Derek questioned him._

"_Well, the deal is my life for his soul."_

"_And so you want to forfeit your life," Derek stated rather than asked._

"_Then why not just kill yourself?" another vampire, Claire, snapped._

"_Because I promised my brother. Plus, I want to make sure the demons don't try to weasel out of dropping the deal and I can't do that if I don't have some form of consciousness," Sam told them truthfully. Derek put a hand to his chin and eyed Sam closely._

"_You were definitely right. This is amusing. We've had hunters come busting through our door swinging machetes around like they were baseball bats, but we've never had one knock at our door and ask us to turn him into something he hunts. This is very interesting," Derek admitted to the stunned group._

"_Derek! Don't tell me you're considering this!" Claire shrieked at her leader._

"_And why shouldn't I? It's not every day we get something like this." _

"_Listen, Derek," Marcus cut in, "it's suicide. You know how bad it gets when we kill a hunter. We get an angry mob of ten more hunters chasing after us. And we've already got to kill him for finding us or he'll track us. You know that. But just imagine the fallout if we turn him. He's high profile. Probably has a lot of hunter friends. And turning one is a lot more personal than just killing one." Sam had to roll his eyes. A lot of friends? Among hunters? What a joke. Besides Bobby, Sam wasn't the most popular as far as hunters were concerned. Gordon had made sure of that. Now Sam had to find the irony in his situation. He was willingly falling into the same fate Gordon had been forced into. Hopefully it would end better for him._

"_Marcus is right, Derek. You need to think about the wellbeing of the nest," Margot said, pulling Sam from his musings._

"_That's the beauty of it! I am thinking of the nest!" Derek shouted excitedly. "Turning a high profile hunter. We will be famous among vampires. Gods of our kind. Lords of the undead. Master of the fangs! We are the ones to turn the great Sam Winchester! We are the ones that did what none other could do. We will be respected. Worshipped. Our nest will grow. Every town we enter, we will be offered first blood."_

"_The only blood that will spill will be ours!" Claire shouted. "We can't trust him."_

"_No, I think we can," Derek smirked. "I like you, Sam Winchester. You really would do anything for that brother of yours, wouldn't you? Anything at all. Even the most despicable, horrible, unforgivable…"_

"_Okay, that's enough," Sam interrupted. "Now, are we doing this or not?" Derek looked to the others and reluctantly they nodded their consent._

"_Looks like tonight you die, Sam Winchester." Derek grinned evilly at Sam, and although Sam wanted to be happy, he felt his heart sink deep in his chest. He was overcome with a sense of foreboding, and he really prayed he was doing the right thing. He pulled a silver knife from his sleeve and the vampires jumped back quickly, but Sam didn't attack. Instead, he rolled up his sleeve, slicing a long cut across his arm and held it out waiting for Derek to combine their blood. The vampires watched him hungrily. Suddenly, they were licking their lips at the sight of fresh human blood spilling from an open wound and Sam noticed their eyes were glazed over. Derek shook his head and chuckled openly._

"_Oh no, Sam Winchester. Not like that. That would make it much too easy. You see, it would be like we were doing you a favor, and we don't do favors. Like any other supernatural creature in its right mind, we want to make a little deal. We should get something out of this too, after all," the vampire informed him smugly, and Sam's eyes widened for the briefest of instants._

"_You mean more than fame? More than being 'Lord of the Dance' or whatever?" Sam mocked angrily. He didn't have time for this._

"_Just a bit more," Derek winked._

"_What do you want?" Sam grumbled. This was bad. He was losing control of the situation and fast. Plus, these vampires looked like they were about to jump him._

"_Before we turn you, we want to feed from you, Sam Winchester," Derek said nonchalantly. This time Sam's eyes widened and they stayed that way. He was starting to feel a little bit panicked which was only making his heart beat faster and the vampires look even hungrier._

"_No way! Absolutely not! You'll kill me!" Sam shouted at the vampires who only looked more amused._

"_But isn't that the whole point?" Derek asked him. "But don't worry, Sam Winchester. We won't. Not in the way you are thinking, anyway. But if you expect us to trust you, then shouldn't you have to trust us too? It is only fair. Besides, this way you get what you want, and we get what we want. Of course, we will feed from you either way. Let us, and we turn you. Fight us, and we drain the life from your veins and you never open your eyes again. Either way, it doesn't matter to either of us, does it? Either way we feed and your heart stops beating, breaking the deal. It's just a matter of satisfaction at this point. So, which way do you want it?"_

"_Fine," Sam said harshly, and the vampires pulled him to the couch and pushed him down to sitting. Derek approached from behind the couch, but Sam made no move to look at him. Instead, his eyes remained focused dead straight ahead and his heavy breathing quickened. He felt the vampire take his head in his hands and tip it slightly to the side. Sam thought he heard him telling him not to be so nervous, but he couldn't be sure. It was a little hard to focus when you were about to make a massive blood donation to a nest full of hungry vampires. He felt cold hands caress his neck, feeling for the exact right spot to get the best possible blood flow. It was agonizing. Slow. Sam almost just wanted them to get it over with, but he really should be careful what he wishes for. Suddenly he felt a full set of teeth clamp down sharply, deep into the soft tissue just below his neck and he screamed out in pain. These weren't two little fangs like in the movies, but Sam knew that. Knew what real vampires were. So when dozens of razor sharp teeth pierced into delicate flesh he should have been prepared, but he wasn't. It hurt like hell. He gasped for air as the slow painful sucking began to pull the life from his veins. _

_He did everything he could not to scream, bit hard into his own lip and scrunched his face tightly with the excruciating pain. But he wouldn't scream again for them. Wouldn't give them that satisfaction. After a while Derek released his Rottweiler grip on Sam's neck and the next vampire sunk his teeth in. Sam moaned loudly, but not with pleasure. All he felt was pain. While in movies and books a vampire drinking from a human was described as an intimate and almost erotic experience, this was anything but. These creatures weren't beautiful. They weren't interesting. They weren't exotic. They sure as hell weren't sexy. When Sam looked at them, eyes flashing slightly with the light and wicked fangs bared, all he saw were monsters. Ugly freaks and nothing more. He couldn't hate them all. He didn't hate Lenore. But the ones in his current company were vicious monsters, and Sam knew it well. Suddenly, as the last vampire was feeding, something changed. Something cold and wet had come into contact with his arm. He shifted his eyes downward to see Derek's bloody hand pressed firmly against his wounded arm. Sam wanted to pull away in disgust. Wanted to run away. But he didn't. It would have been too late anyway. Sam could already feel the changes. He felt the cold consuming him. He felt something dark within him, something that had been there all along, and it suddenly felt like it had been snuffed out. Was it the demon blood? It would make sense. So much of his blood had been drained, and Margot was still taking from him, and now the vampire virus was taking over what was left. It was something he had been worried about: the demon blood. After all, this could have been Croatoan all over again. But it wasn't. It was working, and Sam didn't know whether to be happy or sad. One darkness gone, only to be replaced by another. _

_Suddenly, his perspective of the situation began to change. The pain started to feel good. To feel right. His agony really did turn to a feeling of intense intimacy and the vampire still latched onto his barely human neck suddenly felt so good. In fact, everything was becoming so intense. The sounds. The smells. Touch. Even his vision. It was all making him so dizzy. It was just too overwhelming and he didn't know how to take it all in at once. His head was pounding. Slowly, he felt his pulse slowing, his heartbeat more and more infrequent. And then, it was gone and Margot let go of his neck, his blood no longer human, and Derek released his arm. Derek, who had been sitting on the couch next to Sam during the transformation, patted the new vampire twice on the shoulder._

"_Well, call the coroner, I do believe you are deceased, Sam Winchester!" And that's when it really hit Sam. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't even alive anymore. He wasn't even human. He was a vampire! He was one of these things…these things he had just called ugly freaks. These monsters. Oh god! What would Dean say when he saw him like this? His skin was pasty white, his chest unmoving, and an indescribable urge calling to him. Was it the beginnings of the bloodlust? Would he want to feed so soon? Just thinking about blood made his second set of teeth, oh god…his fangs, distend. He felt them awkwardly in his mouth, so foreign…so deadly. He wanted them to just disappear, but they weren't going back in. Why weren't they going away! Suddenly, he was panicking again and he began to heave deep unneeded breaths into his uncaring lungs. Dean would never forgive this…but he had done this for Dean! He was saving Dean! There was no other option, was there? He felt so lightheaded and dizzy from the blood loss. He was almost certain he would pass out right there and be at the mercy of these vampires…these _other _vampires. Somehow, he managed to hold onto consciousness._

**~SSSSSSSNNNNNNNN~**

Sam spun back around at the crossroads demon's words. He glared daggers into the petite blonde. As far as he was concerned, he had damned well been through enough in one night and he didn't need some psycho red eyed demon challenging him. One hour ago he had been fully alive and human. Now he was cold, undead, and in a really bad mood.

"What problem? The deal is done. It wouldn't be very professional of you to try to weasel out of it now, would it?" Sam asked, allowing his annoyance to show in his voice.

"You mean like you're doing?" She smirked evilly at the new vampire before her. Sam blinked at her.

"That's not the same."

"Isn't it?" she asked. "I wasn't born yesterday, Sam. I know a few things about the world, and one of them is how that twisted little mind of yours works."

"What are getting at?" Sam questioned coldly.

"Oh, Sammy, you wouldn't be doing this without an out, now, would you? You would never become something you hunt without a way to fix it. You're just jerking my chain. Trying to pull me into your little trap, and that's exactly what it is. You, Sam, are trying to screw us over." She knew. She had to know. That had to be what she was getting at. But did it matter? Technically, he would still be dead when Dean's deal came due. Wasn't that all that mattered?

**~SSSSSSSNNNNNNNN~**

"_Whoa! Just calm down there, kid," the vampire Ryan was saying to him, but there was nothing that was going to calm Sam down. Not as long as he could _smell _his own inhumanity. That was too much. Suddenly, Ryan was talking hurriedly to the other vampires and Sam tried his best to listen to what he was saying. "He doesn't look so good, guys. I think we need to get some blood in him. How's the girl doing?" _

_That's when Sam noticed the other presence in the room. He hadn't even been aware of her before and he realized he should have been. After all, wasn't rule number one of being a hunter to be constantly aware of his surroundings? However, Sam had been a little distracted to say the least. Now, there was no shutting her out. Her small whimpers and shaky breath seemed to echo loudly throughout the entirety of the cabin, although they would have gone nearly unnoticed to the human ear. He could feel her, sense her every move. And although he could not see her (she was somewhere behind him tucked away in a far corner) he knew she was heavily chained. He could taste the metal. He knew she had numerous cuts and bites on her neck and arms. He could smell the sickening sweetness, the deliciousness of spilling blood in the air. He knew they had been draining her. He knew she had been there for about two days. He knew it all, and he knew it because it was all right there. It was in the scent, the taste, the very feel of the air surrounding him. It was all so inviting. He wanted to go to her, but not to release her. No. Never to release her. He wanted to properly drain her, his teeth bearing down into her delicate throat and squeezing out every last drop of that tantalizing blood. _

_Suddenly, Sam was disgusted with himself. What was he thinking? He wanted to drink some innocent girl's blood? He wanted to drink blood at all? What kind of person wanted to do that? Well, a vampire, but Sam had never intended to actually become one. Not like that. Not for real. But suddenly, it felt real and the weight of his decision was all but closing in on him. He had to fight it. If he didn't, he really would be a vampire and nothing could save him._

"_No!" Sam gritted out between clenched teeth, or fangs more appropriately. He wouldn't, couldn't, drink blood. Truth be told, this was all a part of a bigger plan Sam had put into motion. You see, Sam had found a cure for vampirism. However, there was just one catch. Only a vampire who had never tasted human blood could be changed back. Even one drop and Sam could never become human again, destined to an eternity of bloodlust, being tracked by hunters, and don't forget the loneliness of watching everyone he knew grow old and die. Not that it would ever come to that because Sam would readily offer himself up to the hunters, to Dean, for his own execution. Surely Dean would do the job. After all, he had promised Sam that he would kill him if he ever turned, and this was a whole new degree of "turning." Still, Sam had no intentions of staying a vampire. He wouldn't drink. A cure could be concocted from the blood of the vampire who had turned him. He just needed to remember that it wasn't human blood he needed right now. It was Derek's. And he was damned well going to get it._

_The vampires watched curiously as Sam stiffened, unnecessary breathing finally coming to a halt. He was sickeningly pale, even for a vampire. They had taken a lot of blood. They were glad, though. They weren't prepared to trust a hunter, even one who had become a vampire, and in his weakened state Sam posed much less of a threat. Or so they thought. Slowly, Sam pushed himself back up to standing, watching the other vampires intently. As he focused on the task at hand, his fangs finally retracted back into his gums._

"_This is what you wanted, Sam Winchester," Derek reminded him coldly. "You asked for this. You wanted to be a vampire and vampires feed. If you don't, you will go mad and feed off of the first human you can find. Then every hunter will be onto you. It's safest to stay here with us. Feed on what we have already captured. Don't draw attention to yourself lest you put all of us in danger. You will stay and feed, Sam Winchester. You are now a member of our nest." Derek's sing-song tone and constant referral to Sam's full name was really starting to grate on the new vampire._

"_I never agreed to join your nest," Sam deadpanned. _

"_It doesn't matter. It is decided for you. We can't allow you to leave and go back to your brother. He would be angry, vengeful. He would kill you and then come looking for us. He has his life now, and that is enough. You have us now. We are your family," Derek informed the young vampire._

"_Dean is my family!" Sam spat as he pulled a machete from its hiding place beneath his tan jacket. Now the vampires backed off quickly._

"_Hmm, knew we should have checked for that. No matter. You will regret this. Get him!" Derek shouted and the other vampires leaped forward reaching out for Sam. Despite his weakened state, Sam was too stubborn and determined to let the vampires get the drop on him. He swung the machete with as much force as he could muster, swiftly taking the head off of Marcus's body before the vampires had descended on him. The remaining three were furious, vicious. Within seconds they had forced Sam hard onto the floorboards and his tired hand lost its grip on the weapon. Claire ordered Ryan and Margot to hold Sam down while she snatched the machete from where it had fallen to the ground. A nervous looking Ryan and Margot had him held by the shoulders on either side and Claire was attempting to straddle him as she waved the machete's long blade through the air for effect. Just as she was about to bring the blade down in true hunter fashion, Sam swiftly lifted his tired legs between the vampire's and as close to his own chest as possible. He kicked out, sending Claire into the wall before he struggled free from the other two. He felt ready to faint, the activity being too much for his weakened body, but for Dean's sake he refused to fail. Instead he pushed himself past his limits, flying at Claire and ripping the machete from her hands before flipping her to the ground and swinging the blade down hard, cleanly severing head from stump. He never would have been able to dispatch the two in his weakened condition if not for the dread of Dean's deal driving him, but for his brother he could do anything. He was breathing hard as he looked up, unnecessary as it was. But old habits die hard. Margot stared wide eyed at the hunter, pale blue eyes flickering with fear and auburn hair falling untouched across her face. She didn't dare make any sudden movements, fearfully weighing out her options. Her mate, Ryan, made the next move for her by flinging her out of the way and bounding toward Sam. Sam barely sidestepped the protective vampire, but the distraction had allowed Margot time to dig a knife deep into Sam's shoulder blade, not that it could hurt a vampire too badly. Machete still in hand, Sam swung out towards Margot, but she managed to back off just enough to narrowly miss the would-be death blow. _

_Up until now Derek had been watching the scene unfold, confidently expecting his vampires to make easy work of the new vampire. Sam never should have been able to best them, not when he was nearly delirious from the blood haze and physically exhausted by the change, but somehow the vampire was still giving his all. Apparently something could be said for blind stubbornness and determination. Now, Derek was beyond angry. He grabbed the new vampire by the hair and flung his head down hard into the coffee table alongside the couch. Sam felt his vision go dark for a second and he vaguely heard Derek ordering the others to leave Sam to him, but it sounded so distant and detached. Sam forced himself to regain focus and take in the scene once again. The door had been flung open and there was no sign of Ryan and Margot. The two lovebirds had fled. Sam knew for certain they were gone as he could no longer sense their presence. However, Sam could still scent Derek in the room. He could scent his pure anger. That was fine. Sam really only needed Derek's blood anyway. He and Dean could hunt the other vampires down after this whole thing was settled once and for all. Sam watched the enraged vampire carefully._

"_That was stupid, even for you," the angry vampire scolded the younger. Sam lunged at him, but Derek was stronger, much stronger than Sam in his current state. "Years of training have given you skills, Sam Winchester. As weak as your body is you were able to outmaneuver two of my vampires and nearly take out the other two. No matter. You will see things my way once everything sinks in. You can't fight what you are forever." Derek had Sam pinned up against the wall, fangs bared, and oceanic eyes boring through Sam's very soul. Suddenly, Derek ripped the machete from Sam's pinned hand and tossed it across the room. He pulled Sam into the corner near the bleeding girl and threw him to the ground next to her. "See what you are now, Sam Winchester? Give in! Give in and let go of your old life or suffer and die the second and final death!" Sam was still panting hard, refusing to accept the lifeless feeling of his own body. He felt his fangs fighting for release, but he refused to let them out. He wouldn't feed from the girl. He would go back to Dean as a vampire, but it would be with cure in hand. Dean would be angry, disgusted, but he would help Sam. He'd tie him up until after midnight the next night, until after the deadline for the deal had officially passed, and then he would feed Sam the cure and this whole mess would be over. It was the whole purpose of choosing this particular night. Twenty-four hours. Any later and there wouldn't be enough time, and any earlier and Sam wouldn't be able to fight the bloodlust long enough. After all he'd been through to make this plan work he wouldn't let it end this way._

_Sam reached under his pant leg and pulled out a syringe filled with a thick red liquid. Plunging it into Derek's leg, he pressed down hard, releasing the sticky substance into the surprised vampire's bloodstream. _

"_Dead man's blood," Sam said to the vampire who was now writhing uncontrollably on the cold wooden floor. Sam made his way over to the machete and then back to Derek's side. He lifted the machete high into the air, but was suddenly interrupted by Derek's weak laughter._

"_Oh, you can kill me, Sam Winchester," the vampire told him mockingly, "but it won't change anything. It won't make you a hunter again. You're one of us now. A vampire. You'll see. Just a vampire." Derek was laughing hysterically as Sam brought down the blade, blood splattering across the now quiet room._

"_Just for today," Sam said sadly before he unchained the girl who began sobbing uncontrollably. Sam backed away from her quickly, not trusting himself. He bottled some of Derek's blood and rushed from the cabin, calling an ambulance for the girl as he drove out to the crossroads to inform the demons._

**~SSSSSSSNNNNNNNN~**

"What?" was all Sam could think to say.

"I know you know, Sam. About the cure. Don't try to play me for a fool," the red eyed demon warned firmly. Sam shifted uncomfortably. It doesn't matter, he kept repeating to himself. It doesn't matter if she knows. It doesn't change anything.

"It doesn't matter," Sam finally voiced out loud. "Whatever happens after midnight tomorrow has nothing to do with the deal."

"In an ideal world, Sam, but you must have realized by now that nothing is ever that easy," The demon was smirking at him now, and she seemed deathly confident in herself. "You see, Sam, Lilith holds the contract now." So Bela was telling the truth, Sam mused as the demon continued her tirade. "And Lilith doesn't like being scammed. She will never just let Dean go on a technicality. She had plans for you and Dean, Sam. Plans that you messed up. Now she will never let either of you rest. For the rest of your lives she will hunt you, torment you, haunt your dreams, and she will never stop until she has you _both _in hell. And trust me, Sam, she will succeed if she has to drag you two there with her own hands. You never should have pissed off a demon of her caliber, Sam."

"Then we'll just have to kill her," Sam told the demon, "but the deal is done and she isn't getting Dean's soul."

"My, aren't we cocky?" the demon teased. "You can't kill her, Sam. She is more powerful than Azazel. More powerful than anything you have ever faced, and she has so many followers. There was only one way to kill her. Only one thing powerful enough to get the job done, and that one thing was locked away in your blood. But thanks to your idiocy…it's gone, and there is no getting it back. You're just an ordinary little bloodsucker now, and after you take that cure you'll just be a pathetic, ordinary little human. You won't stand a chance against Lilith. You just aren't _special_ enough anymore."

"So the demon blood really is gone?" Sam asked, not sure if he should be relieved the demon blood was a nonissue now or terrified that Lilith was going to be gunning for him and Dean hardcore after the following night.

"Don't sound so happy about it, Sam. It was your only weapon against Lilith," the demon said, observing the vampire closely. "It will be a living hell for you and your brother now. I would believe that if I were you. Not that it matters much anymore." Sam did believe it. Sure, demons lied. But every once in a while the truth could cut so much deeper, and now was one of those times. Sam could sense it.

"And if I give up and take the cure now before the deal comes due, Dean goes to hell tomorrow night for sure. We'll have to take our chances," Sam said in false confidence.

"True. He'd go to hell and then Lilith would destroy you for ruining the _big plan_," Sam raised a brow at that, but the demon just waved him off. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that one anymore. So, here's the deal. I want to offer you door number three."

"No more deals!" Sam shouted back at her, but she just smiled, completely unfazed by the outburst.

"Not a deal per say," the demon informed amusedly. "But you've put us in a tight spot here, Sam. Our original goals are unsalvageable, but we would be willing to cut our losses. After all, there are other generations of special children. Your part is done now, but we can work with what we have."

"Would you just cut to the chase? You really do talk too much." Sam glared at her. One thing he knew was that whatever she was about to say was going to be really bad.

"All right then," she said. "Your loophole holds. We'll drop the deal on your technicality since you are now useless to us, but we won't be made fools of. We won't be screwed over, Sam. We agree to forget this whole, unfortunate thing on one condition. There is no 'out.' There is no 'cure.' We don't like being scammed and embarrassed any more than anyone else, Sam. It's what the humans call fair, after all."

"What…what are you saying?" Sam stammered, but he knew exactly what she was saying.

"As long as you can still wake up alive and breathing whenever you want, you're not really dead, Sam. You have to suffer the full extent of what you're offering. Drink from my human host, then the deal _and _you and Dean are forgotten like yesterday's trash."

Suddenly, Sam was shaking. This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to know about the cure. She wasn't supposed to know that he knew about the cure. She wasn't supposed to ask for his humanity in return for Dean's soul and both of their lives. Somehow, this well-planned idea didn't seem so well planned anymore. In fact, he was now in a bigger mess than the one in which he had started. If he did this, then there would be no going back ever. He'd be a vampire and end of story. It was the point of no return and Sam had to make a decision one way or the other. Either way, how could he ever face Dean again? If he did this, he would have to face his brother as a full vampire and plead with him to cut off his head. If he didn't do this, he would have to tell his brother that every demon out there plus Lilith was going to corner them in and rip them both to shreds slowly and painfully. But which was the lesser evil? The one where Dean definitely lived, Sam decided. Derek had been right about one thing: Sam would do anything for his brother. Dean had sacrificed his soul to save Sam. Now it was Sam's turn to sacrifice something to save Dean. Sam just wished it didn't have to be his humanity. It would kill Dean to see him like this, to know what he had done. Yet, Sam couldn't think about that now. He had come to the edge of the cliff, and now he needed to just jump off.

Sam couldn't speak. He couldn't voice it out loud. He felt like he was giving in, giving up, letting Dean down in the worst way, but he wouldn't turn back. He _really _wouldn't turn back. All Sam could do was nod sadly. The demon called Sam's silver knife to herself with her demonic powers and brought the blade down slowly against the crook of her neck. It was just enough to draw blood. She waited, beckoning Sam with her eyes and he approached slowly, all the time repeating his silent mantra through his mind: For Dean…For Dean…For Dean…. Strangely, he felt none of the bloodlust he had suffered from earlier. He felt only sickness, disgust, and shame. The smell of her blood was heavy with sulfur and not appetizing at all. Before he knew it he had reached her side. Reluctantly, he forced his fangs to drop and then dug them into the warm neck, the disgusting taste of the already drawn demon blood hitting his tongue.

"Your brother is free now, Sam," the red-eyed demon whispered as she shot out of her host's mouth, a dark black cloud of smoke, and flew away into the calm, airy night. Sam felt the girl in his grasp go slightly limp before being hit with sudden panic. Her heart was beating so fast.

"Where am I?" the girl whimpered, feeling the pains of sharp teeth buried in her throat, but it was too late for Sam to stop himself. The taste of the blood on his tongue had changed to something sweet and delicious and all he could hear was the pumping of her frightened heart. He could taste the adrenaline in the blood and it was so good that he was completely lost to the bloodlust. Sam began to suck the warm liquid into his mouth frantically, pushing the razor-like fangs in even deeper. The blond girl screamed out in a piercing shrill of agony, pain, and pure terror that could have shattered glass. But Sam couldn't care about that now. Even with his now delicate hearing, he was too lost in the ecstasy of human blood to really acknowledge it. She screamed and struggled for a long time, for as long as she could, and then stopped, falling limp in his strong arms. Sam continued to feed until he could taste the last rays of life in the blood, knowing the exact second she was dead and the blood would become poison, and he dropped her lifeless body to the ground.

Sam fell to his hands and knees and pushed himself backward away from the girl's body. Try as he might, he was too stunned to breathe and he almost panicked before he remembered that it no longer mattered. He would never really breathe again. Not without thinking about it, willing himself to do it. He was a monster, and now a monster that had killed an innocent girl and drank her blood. He forced himself to look at what he had done. It was like his worst nightmare come true. In his enthusiasm he had not only drained the girl, but had ripped her throat out with his fangs, gaining access to a geyser of blood. He couldn't see this. He couldn't accept what he had done. It was so cold, so cruel. He could hear her screams in his memory and they stung his soul. How could he ever forgive himself for this? He knew he couldn't, and he was grateful he would die soon. This needed to end now.

Sam dropped his face into his hands and hoped his lifeless body could still produce tears. When he felt the dampness in his palms he allowed himself to be lost to it, crying more than he had in a very long time. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Sam pushed himself onto his feet, wiped uselessly at his tearstained face, and walked slowly towards the Impala. Morning would be upon him soon and he knew the sunlight would wear him down despite having just fed. He hoped he had the courage to face Dean.


	2. What Did You Do!

**Chapter 2: What Did You Do!**

When the first rays of sunlight gently swept across the earth Sam was still driving around aimlessly in the Impala. Wasting Dean's gas, he mused. If it wasn't for the _much _bigger problem at hand, Dean probably would not be too happy about that. As it was, though, Sam doubted his brother would even notice. Now, it was all Sam could do to stall for time. How could he even fathom going back to that hotel room and telling Dean that he had become something they hunt? How could he tell him that he had killed an innocent girl? How?

Sam would have sighed, but he was too depressed to even try. It was just one more reminder of what he was now. There were still tears in his eyes and he really did want to go back to his brother and tell him what had happened, but this would destroy Dean. Could he really make his own brother kill him? It was just so unfair to Dean. After everything Dean had done to keep him alive and now Sam was going to put the machete in his hand and tell him to just swing away? Sam was seriously contemplating just running away at this point. Dean would never have to know. Sam could kill himself. There are plenty of ways to get yourself decapitated if you're just creative enough about it. Plus, there were any number of hunters who would be willing to do the job. Then, of course, there was Bobby. Bobby would help him out, and Sam could surely convince him not to tell Dean. The older hunter loved them like his own sons and would never want to hurt Dean like that. Then Dean would never know what had happened to Sam and he could move on without all of the pain.

But of course, Sam knew that would never work. Dean would never believe that Sam had just run away. He'd never believe he was happy somewhere going to school or dating some girl. Even if Bobby lied for him, Dean wouldn't believe it. Why? One: because Sam would never run out on Dean when he thought he only had one day left to live, and two: because after the deadline passed Dean would not be in hell. Dean would know Sam had done something to get him out of the deal. He would probably think Sam was in hell and tear through the devil's gate after him. Or maybe he would make another dumb deal. And of course there was always the possibility that Dean would find out what really happened and then drink himself to death over guilt that he shouldn't but most definitely would be feeling. Sam glanced at the rising sun and felt the first waves of exhaustion hitting him. It was time to face Dean.

**~SSSSSSSSSSSNNNNNNNNNN~**

Sam slowly opened the door to the hotel room and entered as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake his brother whom he was sure was still passed out from the previous night's escapades. Apparently…he was wrong.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded the minute Sam closed the door behind him. He was sitting on his bed with his back to Sam and a hand digging through his duffel.

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I thought you'd still be out of it after last night," Sam said nervously. Sam really was surprised. This was early for Dean on a good day.

"Yeah," Dean quipped cockily, "that was pretty awesome, dude. But I figure since it's my last day and all I shouldn't sleep all day. Damn it! Where are the painkillers? I've got the mother of all hangovers right now, dude."

"Yeah, I bet." Sam tried to force some humor into his voice but he knew he was failing miserably, "Check the front pocket." Dean checked the pocket in question and pulled out the tiny bottle. He rattled the bottle in appreciation a couple of times as he got up and started to turn towards his little brother.

"Yep. Thanks, Sa…" As Dean turned around and took in the image of his baby brother standing next to the closed door, his eyes widened in an unreadable expression and the bottle of pills fell unnoticed from his hand. "Sammy?" the older Winchester stammered. Oh god, Sam panicked. His cold body was shivering again and for once he was glad he didn't need to breathe anymore. He was certain he'd be turning blue from oxygen deprivation since he was too terrified to get his lungs to cooperate anyway. Why was Dean looking at him like that? He knew! Dean knew what he had done. He could tell he was a vampire! Was it really so obvious that all it took was a single glance? Well, he was _really _pale and there was the way he was standing perfectly still, no gentle lifting of his chest, not even a pulse. But just how noticeable could those things be, even if Dean did have an experienced eye? Then another thought hit him. Were his fangs out? Really, those things had a mind of their own. That must be it. But when he ran his tongue over his teeth to check, he didn't feel the second set. So what was it then? But somehow, Dean knew what he was. Dean knew him better than anyone, after all.

"Dean…" What does one say in a situation like this? Sam had no idea. Dean decided to say it for him.

"Sam, what the hell did you do?!" Dean shouted at him. Yet, Dean didn't seem all that angry, just…worried. Extremely worried actually.

"Dean, I am _so _sorry. Man, I just…I didn't know what else to…"

"Damn it, Sammy. You're covered in blood," Dean said in a gruff and concerned voice as he continued to watch his brother closely, trying to take note of any injuries. Ah, so that was it, Sam realized. Of course Dean wouldn't know Sam was a vampire yet. Suddenly, despite previously having been terrified of the prospect of Dean knowing what he was, Sam was even more terrified that Dean didn't know. Now Sam would have to tell him, but he just couldn't form the words. Instead, he just stood there and stared back at his brother sadly. "Don't think I didn't notice your bed hasn't been slept in, Sam," Dean was telling him as he came forward, grabbing his little brother by the sleeve and dragging him over to the bed. He pushed him down to sitting. "I know you were out all night. I knew you were doing something stupid! But Sammy…this…damn it!" Dean was shouting now. "You went to the damned crossroads, didn't you? You know you can't get me out of this, Sam! Look at you! You're freakin' bleeding to death!" Oh, if Dean only knew. Sam could hear the slight shake to Dean's voice as he shouted at him. He was scared for him. He thought he was seriously injured.

"S'not my blood, Dean…" Sam replied meekly.

"Like hell it's not!" Dean interrupted. "Have you seen yourself lately, Sam? You look like you need a freakin' transfusion."

"No, Dean…really…"

"Shit! Sam…it's all over your face…your mouth…your chin. Sammy, if you're coughing up this much blood it's really bad, man." The pained look in Dean's eyes was too much for Sam to take. Dean's hand abruptly reached up to grasp Sam's face so that he could gain better access to the dire view. However, the minute his skin brushed against the ice cold flesh of his brother, Dean's hand shot back as if it had been burned. Sam couldn't quite read the expression in Dean's eyes. It was just so intense and crazy, like his entire world was crashing down around him. And if it wasn't now, Sam knew that it would be soon.

"Dean…" Sam tried again, but it was so hard to talk. He had run through this conversation a million times over in the Impala, but now that he was here he was choking on the words. He wanted to say so much, yet he could say nothing at all.

"Sammy, I think you're in shock…" Dean was telling him. Well, one of them certainly was and it sure as hell wasn't Sam. Sam couldn't remember ever seeing Dean like this before. This whole year Dean had been dying, but he had kept his game face on. But now…now he was falling apart at the seams. Was this what it was like in Cold Oak when Sam had died in his brother's arms? Is this how Dean had been? Sam could see _this _Dean making that deal and it terrified him.

"You're freezing. We've got to warm you up," Dean continued. He went to the other bed, snatching up the comforter and wrapping it firmly around his little brother.

"It's no good, Dean…"

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Sam. Where are the keys? Jesus, I can't believe you have me spending my last day in the emergency room, little brother. Huh? You better keep fighting. Not gonna lose you now." Dean was trying really hard to be brave for Sam, and he really did appreciate it. Yet, it made things that much harder as well. Sam decided he needed to be brave for Dean too. He offered his older brother a tiny smile in return. At least there was one good thing he had to tell him.

"Not your last day," Sam murmured. The sun was sitting higher in the sky now and Sam was feeling physically drained. He hoped he could stay conscious long enough to tell Dean everything he needed to know.

"What?" Dean's voice was a gruff, low rumble, barely audible.

"It's not your last day, Dean. There is no more deal." Dean stopped his panicked attempt to warm the younger "man" up as what his brother said finally sank in.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded. "I knew you had something up that oversized sleeve of yours! There never was a hunt here was there, Sam?!" Sam allowed himself to sigh this time. It was now or never.

"Actually, there was. But I took care of that too."

"Took care of…" Dean was watching his brother even more intently now, taking in everything he was hearing, everything he was seeing. There was something more about Sam than just the pasty white, cold skin. There was something in his stillness that Dean hadn't seen before. It was almost as if Sam was dead, as if Dean were looking at his brother's… "Corpse," he mumbled out loud.

"What?" Now it was Sam's turn to be confused.

"When I touched you before…you felt like a corpse, Sam," Dean clarified. "Nothing could be that cold and still be alive. It felt like you'd been dead for hours." Dean shook his head slowly and looked down, utterly distraught. Was his baby brother whom he had spent his whole life looking out for and worrying about…dead? But then how was he here talking to him? Oh, but Dean could think of a lot of ways Sam could be dead and still animate. He could think of a lot of things his little brother could be…spirit, ghoul, vampire, zombie, wraith, revenant…all things he hunted. Dean hated to ask the next question, but he really had to know. He forced himself to look up at his…his dead baby brother: "Sam…what was the hunt for?" This time it was Sam's turn to look down. He just couldn't look his brother in the eye when he said this.

"Vampires," Sam told him quietly. Dean's breath hitched, but not Sam's because Sam wasn't breathing. At all. And now Dean was painfully aware of that fact and could focus on nothing else. This was too much. Sam had just thrown his whole life away in one night and Dean had been too drunk to notice. Now Dean was pissed.

"Vampires? You mean to tell me that you dragged me here, out to the middle of nowhere, got me drunk off my _ass_, and then decided to run off after another crossroads demon? Oh, and on the way why not bust into a vampire nest…BY YOURSELF…instead of waiting for me to help you with the hunt in the freaking DAYLIGHT! I can't believe you did this, Sam. You're supposed to be the college boy! How could you have thought this was a good idea?! Sam, you practically _let _the god damned things turn you!" Dean was breathing heavily now, face red from the angry tirade. Stupid, stupid little brothers! Sam was still looking down, seemingly too ashamed to take his eyes from his shoes.

"Well, that's not _exactly _how it happened, Dean…" Sam said nervously after a long moment of silence. "I didn't let them turn me." His voice was a whisper, so quiet that Dean could barely hear him. Dean did hear him, though, and he was a bit taken aback. What was Sam telling him? Was it possible that Sam wasn't a vampire? That he wasn't dead? But Dean had felt that coldness himself. He had been watching Sam carefully now for the past ten minutes and the kid – the vampire? – had not taken in a single breath. Why was Sam trying to lie to him? Was this even his brother anymore?

"So you're telling me that you're not…"

"I'm telling you that I didn't _let _them turn me. I…I kind of _asked _them to turn me." That was probably not the best thing to say just then, but Sam really wanted Dean to understand about the deal. He would find out sooner or later anyway. Yet…now Dean was as still as Sam, not breathing, not blinking, just nothing. If anything, he suddenly seemed even paler than Sam if that was possible.

"You did WHAT?!" Dean finally exploded, "Sam! We're hunters! Okay?! We gank the damned things. We don't knock on the front door with a plate full of cupcakes and volunteer to join the club."

"I don't think we eat cupcakes, Dean." Sam tried desperately to lighten the mood, but his voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears. He hated sounding this way, but it's tough to sound perky when you have to ask your brother to kill you. Dean did not seem to find the joke funny in the least. In fact, he looked even more upset, almost like he was going to be sick.

"'_We_,' Sam? Don't you dare refer to yourself as one of those things! You hear that? Don't you dare start doing that." Sam hated seeing his brother look so broken. "I mean, Sam, why would you do this?"

"It was the deal, Dean," Sam said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let you die. If I'm not alive when it comes due they can't take you to hell."

"When it comes due…" Suddenly Dean snapped up, rushing to Sam's duffel and shuffling through it until he found what he was looking for: a dirty, old, red bound book made out of worn leather. "I can't believe I didn't remember this right away. I mean, we just found this last month in Dad's storage…" Dean was flipping through the old book frantically. "I could have sworn there was a cure in here somewhere. That was your plan, right, geek breath? Stay 'dead' until after my deal and then take the cure?" Dean sounded so relieved it was breaking Sam's heart.

"Right, that _was _the plan, but…wait…you're not mad?"

"Mad? Sam, I'm furious," Dean told him, but he was smirking ever so slightly. "And seriously, dude, after you take this cure," Sam winced, "I might just have to kill you again myself. This was so stupid. You walked into a whole nest of vampires by yourself. You're lucky to be alive. Well…you know what I mean. But what's done is done." Dean winked at him, a real smile appearing on his face. "Right so, here it is. A vampire who has never tasted human blood can be cured…blah blah blah….We need the blood of the vampire who turned you. You got it, right Sammy?" Dean glanced up quickly at his brother.

"Yeah, got that…" Sam said slowly, but Dean was on a roll here.

"Okay, well. This looks like a whole cocktail of nasty. Have fun with that, little brother," Dean said jokingly as he patted Sam on the leg, looking a little uncomfortable after feeling the coldness through the denim. But it was only temporary, right? He could deal with it for one day. It hurt like hell to see his brother looking so…well, dead. But as long as he could fix it, he would make sure everything was right with his little brother. "I suppose we should think about confining you? You know, just to be safe." Oh Sam really did hate to tear his brother back down again, but he couldn't let Dean go on with this false hope. It was better Dean kill him now when Sam was still in his right mind and wasn't hungry enough to try to tear his brother a new one just to taste his blood.

"Dean…about that…it's not going to work…the cure."

"What are you talking about, Sammy? It's right here in the book and you got the bloodsucker's blood. This should work. Since you've never…since you've never…" Suddenly Dean was looking pointedly at Sam, realizing what the younger was trying to say. "Sam? That blood that's all over you…that's really not yours, is it?"

"No," Sam said, sounding ashamed. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I…"

Sam was interrupted by the sound of the book being whipped hard into the wall on the other side of the room. Dean himself looked like death warmed over now. He wasn't even looking at Sam. "Dean…I…"

"No," Dean growled coldly, still looking at the wall. "Don't talk to me right now. _You _are not my brother. You're not Sam! Sam would have fought this! Sam wouldn't have given in right away! He is…was…stronger than that." His voice was so cold, completely devoid of emotion by the time he finished.

"I'm sorry." Sam wanted to argue, but maybe it was true. Maybe he wasn't Sam anymore. He still remembered vividly what he had done at the crossroads. It was an image that would never leave his mind. Maybe Sam Winchester was just gone….

"What am I supposed to do now?" he heard his older brother saying.

"You know what you have to do, Dean." And the older hunter did know. He had to do what he had been trained to do. That was just another vampire sitting on that bed. As much as it looked like his Sammy, Sam was dead and this time there was no going back. That was a vampire, he was a hunter, and the two did not mix.

"Fine," Dean said flatly as he finally shifted his gaze to the vampire, glaring daggers into it. "But first I want to see it."

"What?" the vampire asked him.

"You know what," Dean said flatly. "I want to see it or I won't…I _can't_…believe this is real."

"It _is _real, Dean," Sam told him sadly as he forced the second set of teeth to come out into full view. There was no expression whatsoever on Dean's face. His eyes were hard, lips set and unmoving. There wasn't so much as a twitch. On the inside, though, Dean was dying. There was no denying it now even if he wanted to. He couldn't lie to himself because he was seeing it for himself. The proof was right there. There was no denying what Sam was now. What Sam had cursed himself into. Dean was looking at a vampire: the razor sharp fangs menacingly blocking out the view of normal blunt teeth, the stark white skin of death, the still and cold chest, and the thick layer of blood across its face and shirt. Dean felt sick. He made his way over to the table, grabbing his leather jacket and then heading for the door.

"Where are you going, Dean?" Sam asked, stunned.

"I need to get some air. I can't look at you right now." With that, Dean strode out of the room and slammed the door hard behind him.

**~SSSSSSSSSSSSNNNNNNNN~**

Dean sat slumped against the wall just outside of the motel room, eyes watering and threatening to release salty tears, teeth biting down into his lower lip. After a little while the held-in tears began to sting his eyes and he had to wipe them away with his hand. Dean didn't cry often. He'd always needed to be tough for Sammy, always needed to keep up the game face, the stoic and untouchable façade. But now who did he have to be strong for? Sammy was a vampire, and what was _undead _but a fancy word for dead? Sure he could walk, he could talk, but he would never breathe, never blush, never truly live again. And he would kill. Hell, he had killed! There could be no more hope for colleges, no nine to five jobs, no crowded social gatherings. All of the normal things that Sam had always wanted, he would never have. If Sam continued to…exist…all he would ever have to look forward to was drinking blood and hiding in the shadows. Stupid! Stupid, Sammy!

How could Sam have thought this would ever be okay? What, Dean would just kill him and move on? Dean would never move on. Seeing Sam like that…having to live without his little brother and knowing it was his fault…those things would haunt him forever. Of course, it's not like Sam seemed to care. Selfish, Selfish, Sam…. And yet the worst part was not that Sam was a vampire, even though that _was _pretty high up on the list of worst possible things to happen to Sam. But no. The worst part was that Sam was _acting _like a vampire. He had already killed and drank someone's blood after how long…a few hours? Maybe less? What was Dean supposed to do with that knowledge? Did Sam even _try _to fight the bloodlust?

He sighed deeply. He just wanted to get up and get out of here, go for a drive and clear his head a little. Maybe even get some more drinks…a lot more drinks. It didn't even matter that he had never gotten around to taking the painkillers. Honestly, he needed the pain in his head to tell him that this whole thing was not some terribly lucid dream, some painfully realistic nightmare. Despite everything, though, Dean knew it was no dream and he knew he couldn't go out for those drinks. He couldn't justify leaving a vampire all alone in a hotel room, surrounded by people. Sure, for now Sam wasn't much of a threat. He had…fed…recently…and he looked exhausted, but eventually he would be hungry again and then things could get ugly. He had no idea when that would be or how often vampires needed to feed, but he knew it would come sooner rather than later.

How could he go on like this? What was he supposed to do? He knew what Sam, the real Sam, would have wanted him to do. Hell, it was even what the vampire was telling him to do, and he _knew _that he had to do it. He knew that he had to end this. But knowing it didn't make it hurt any less; neither did Sam wanting him to do it. He would, though. No matter how much it tore him apart on the inside, Dean would do what he had to do. In fact, he had already been sitting outside for an hour, putting off the inevitable. There was no point putting it off any longer. He might was well just take care of it now and then shut himself off because really there was nothing else to do. There was just one thought going through his mind as he pushed himself up and finally walked back through the door. Make it quick.

When Dean entered the room he noticed Sam had already fallen asleep. The vampire was passed out cold in the bed on the far side of the room, lying on its stomach and shaggy brown hair splayed out over his slightly turned face so Dean couldn't really see him. He had an arm positioned near the front of his face to help block out the penetrating sunlight. This is good, Dean thought. He could take care of it while the vampire was asleep, quick and painless. Dean went to the weapons case and grabbed his machete before going back to the vampire's bedside and looking down at it. Why did this thing have to look like Sammy? He reached down, grasping the vampire by the shoulder, and flipped it over onto its back to gain better access to its neck. As he did so he couldn't hold back his quick intake of breath. The vampire had really just passed out in the bed. It hadn't even taken the time to retract the frightening second set of teeth. With its mouth slightly open in sleep, Dean had a clear view of them. That plus the sight of the blood covering the face, neck, and shirt…this thing suddenly looked a lot less _Sammy_. Dean felt a tiny shiver pulse throughout his body as he raised the machete purposefully above his head.

Suddenly, the vampire beneath him began thrashing around the bed wildly, head turning from side to side, eyes squeezed shut tightly, incoherent whimpers escaping its lips. Dean recognized that expression. It…he…Sammy…was having a nightmare. He began to murmur slightly more coherently in his sleep as Dean watched helplessly, still standing near the foot of the bed with the machete in the air.

"Don't want…hurt her…no…no…stop…sulfur…for Dean for Dean for Dean…sulfur…no…" Sam kept mumbling over and over and the hurt in his blood-covered face was undeniable even if he still had his eyes closed. Dean's mesmerized state was interrupted by the abrupt sound of a metallic clattering. He glanced down briefly to realize he had dropped the machete, but he made no move to pick it up again. Instead, he rushed to the side of _his brother_ and gathered the sobbing vampire into his arms. Partially jarred from his sleep, Sam continued to whimper quietly, "I didn't want to, Dean…I didn't…"

"Shh. Shh, Sammy, I know. I got you." Dean was still holding his brother tightly to him, not fazed at all by the fact that the way he had positioned Sam in his arms had put the vampire's teeth right near the crook of his neck. If Sam bit him now, Dean wouldn't have cared. "Here, let's get you comfortable," Dean said as he gently lifted the vampire slowly back down to lie in the bed. Sam looked really hazy still, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and Dean doubted he would remember any of this when next he woke. His face was wrinkled up into an expression of discomfort. "You all right there, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Sun's bright…hurts," Sam mumbled in his near sleep state, "close curtains…De…plea…."

Dean quickly got up from his spot next to Sam and closed the curtains as tightly as he could, blocking as much of the penetrating sunlight as possible. When he returned to his brother, Sam was once again fast asleep, out cold…literally. But he looked peaceful, so as much as it hurt Dean to see Sam like that he still smiled at the scene. God, Sammy! It was just such a _Sammy _thing to do to have a sudden nightmare like that, and Dean could pretty much guess what that nightmare had been about. And that's another thing! It was just so _Sammy _to be feeling so guilty about it. Dean was starting to feel so ashamed of himself. How could he have thought that Sam wouldn't have bothered to even try fighting the bloodlust? This was Sammy still! The same Sammy who felt guilty about hustling pool. The same Sammy who always tried to save everyone and was devastated if he couldn't. The same Sammy who felt bad for Lenore and vampires like her despite what they were. The same Sammy who felt responsible for Jess's death even though it was not his fault. The same Sammy who cared so much and took so much pain and guilt into himself. The same Sammy who was so strong willed and stubborn that he had fought with their father over every little detail of their hunting lives. And Dean thought he could turn into a killer? In one night at that! No, Sam would have fought this thing tooth and nail just like everything else. Something had happened, and Dean had a strong feeling it had something to do with the crossroads demon. Well, whatever had happened, what was done was done. Dean couldn't make Sam human again, but he could pick up the pieces of what was left of his little brother. He could help Sam, and himself, learn how to deal with this someday. But first…

Dean flicked on the bedside lamp and let the dull yellow glow wash over the sleeping vampire who even in sleep flinched away from the light. Sam was a mess. The older Winchester got up again and went to the bathroom, wetting a clean rag before going back to his brother. Very hesitantly he reached out for his brother's face, tilting it in his direction. He was still unaccustomed to the skin feeling so cold. He pushed himself to ignore the sensation and get a more firm grasp as he began cleaning his brother's face and neck. As he washed away the blood around Sam's mouth he couldn't help but slow down, hypnotized by the fangs that were so out of place in his Sammy's mouth. Never having had much of a chance to really look at vampire teeth up close before, he gently brushed his thumb along the tip of one of the teeth. Damn! He definitely wouldn't want a mouthful of these stabbing into his skin.

"This is going to be really hard to get used to…but we'll do it together, Sammy," Dean assured the sleeping vampire. Gently, he shifted Sam's head to the other side so he could continue washing the vampire's neck. As he did so, he stopped dead in his tracks, a chill running through his spine. He reached out with two fingers and softly placed them near Sam's shoulder blade where there were very obvious bite marks. The skin was badly bruised and the teeth marks looked like several feral animals had gotten ahold of his baby brother. Dean sucked in an agonized breath. After getting a clear look at Sam's teeth, he couldn't even imagine how much this must have hurt. "God, Sammy…you let them feed from you first? You know how dangerous that was? I should have been there…" But Dean knew that if he had been there he never would have let this happen at all. Honestly, hell was looking pretty damned good to Dean right about now. He'd much rather still be going to hell tonight than for Sam to have to suffer through this. Maybe the hellhounds had already come for him and he was in hell right now? After all, what could be a worse hell than this?

Dean finished cleaning and dressing the wound. Sure, vampires heal fast, but it was still best to properly take care of a wound like that…just in case. Once Sam was clean, Dean pulled off his brother's shoes, jeans, and the two layers of bloody shirts he was wearing before getting him into a fresh T-shirt. The entire time, the kid didn't so much as flinch; he was just a dead weight in Dean's arms, but the hunter tried not to let it get to him too much. Finishing, he tried to get Sam into a more comfortable position, feeling like he was prepping his brother for his funeral. Truly, aside from the obvious vampiric features, Sam looked as he did at Cold Oak and it was unnerving to say the least. Glad to finally be done, Dean pulled the comforter up around his cold brother and plopped down rather ungracefully in his own bed. Pulling the old red book and his father's journal to him, Dean began to read. It was time to research everything he could about vampires.


	3. Door Number Three

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! They inspire me! Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it!

**Chapter 3: Door Number Three**

As Sam allowed himself to regain consciousness his first thought was that he was still "alive." He'd been asleep for a long time. Morning had turned to afternoon and afternoon to early evening. Dean had the entire day to take care of this while Sam slept. So why hadn't he? Did he want him to be awake for it? To suffer for not being his brother anymore? Sam wished that Dean had let him go quietly in his sleep. It was just too painful having to look Dean in the eye now. As Sam sat up in bed he realized that someone had tucked him in and he was nestled safely under a thick hotel blanket. That was weird. He pushed it off his chest and raised a hand to his eyes to wipe the sleep from them, but when he touched his face he noticed he couldn't feel the dried blood caked all over it. He swept his hands over the rest of his face. Nope, he was clean. When he felt his fingertips brush against the second set of teeth he suddenly felt very self-conscious and quickly retracted them. What the hell was going on here? Why wasn't he _dead _dead? Why was he clean and wrapped in blankets?

As the last feelings of sleep finally left his body, Sam was cruelly reminded of the effects of being a vampire. He couldn't help but be instantly aware of the heartbeat in the room, the aroma of warm blood traveling through healthy veins, the gentle movement of lungs that actually worked. Dean. Sam turned to see his older brother sitting in the other bed. It was scary enough that he could hear his brother's heartbeat like someone was pounding against a bass drum, but it was even more nerve wracking that the beating was so calm and peaceful. There was no panic, no racing, to the gentle rhythm. There was just the cool and collected _thud…thud…thud_ over and over again as Dean sat calmly in the bed, humming Metallica off key, stuffing his face with a pizza he had apparently ordered out for, and reading their dad's journal. Seriously…what the HELL!

"Dean?" Sam questioned cautiously. He wasn't sure just how volatile Dean would be. Was he still refusing to look at him? Did he still not want to hear the sound of Sam's voice? Sam wouldn't blame him if that was the case. Dean's head suddenly shot in his direction and he dropped the half eaten slice of pizza back into the box.

"Sammy?" Sammy? Where was that coming from? Just this morning Dean had been screaming at him that he wasn't Sam. What was he playing at now? "Hey, dude. You're up. How…um…how are you feeling? You don't…um…?" Don't what, Dean? Need blood?

"I'm fine," Sam muttered in a confused tone. "Dean, what's going on? What are you doing?" It was not lost on Sam that Dean's heartbeat was still as calm as ever despite the now awake vampire just feet from him. This was the Dean that Sam knew. Brick Wall Dean. Yet, the normality in such a messed up situation wasn't soothing in the least.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm reading up on your condition," Dean told him like it should have been obvious.

"My condition?" Sam asked stunned, both eyebrows shooting up to nearly meet his hairline. "Dean, we're not talking about the flu here."

"Yeah, Sam. You think I don't know that? I know exactly what we're talking about here," Dean said, shaking the journal for Sam to see before going back to his pizza.

"Do you?" Sam asked incredulously, raising his voice in frustration. "Because you're not exactly freaking out here, dude! I mean…Dean…you do remember what we talked about this morning, right? This is _permanent. _We can't fix it this time."

"Well, I'm not trying to fix it, Sam. I'm trying to live with it," Dean told him in a quiet voice.

"What?"

"The way I see it, Sammy, this is like if you…" Dean was waving his hand around in a circular motion trying to think of the right thing to say, "it's like you lost an eye. Yeah, it's permanent and you look a little different, and yeah it's a little freaky at first. But then…then, we get used to it. We move on, and eventually it's just…normal."

"This is nothing like that, Dean!" Sam was shouting now. "We can't just get used to this! It's not just about me _looking _like a monster, Dean. It's about me actually _being _a monster!"

"You're not a monster, Okay!" Now it was Dean's turn to get angry. "I hunt monsters every day, Sam. I _know _what monsters are. They go out there, and they kill without any remorse. It's not even just the supernatural, either. It's humans too. But the difference between you and them, Sam…monsters don't feel bad for…for their…their prey." Dean's eyes were pleading with his little brother to understand, but the vampire just could not accept that answer.

"No, you're absolutely right. It's just fine and dandy to be a murderer as long as I have enough sense to feel bad about it after." Sam meant to sound sarcastic, but somehow he just sounded defeated.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what, Dean? Why are you saying this stuff? Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Damn it! I was going to, Sam!" Dean shouted back at his pale brother. "I was standing over you and I was about to give you one hell of a haircut…"

"So why didn't you?" the vampire asked softly, gentle puppy eyes reaching out to soothe his brother's lost and broken demeanor.

"Because you were having a nightmare. And because you're still my brother. No matter what, Sammy. And I almost…" Dean let himself trail off, not wanting to think about what he had almost done.

"But just this morning you said I wasn't your brother…" Sam reminded the hunter sadly.

"Yeah, well…that was the hangover talking…" Sam knew that his brother was trying to mask the hurt and guilt with humor, and there was a hint of humor to his voice, but Sam didn't need the vampire hearing to hear the quiver that was also there.

"But you know what I did," was all Sam could think to say.

"Yeah, it's a little hard to miss. Been all over the news all day," Dean responded to a suddenly surprised Sam.

"What's been in the news?" Sam asked, looking worried.

"Oh, you know. Police pulled some girl out of a cabin, covered in blood. Her captors were all beheaded. They're saying she's in shock. Keeps saying they were all vampires…and that she was rescued by a vampire. Can't get much else out of her yet." Dean offered a tiny chuckle and proud smirk to his brother. "So way to go, Terminator. You saved her and didn't even take a bite. Although, I do believe I taught you to clean up better than that. Leaving decapitated vampire heads lying around…that's a bit sloppy, Sammy."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly in my right mind at the time. That girl…I barely…" Sam couldn't continue.

"But that's not all, dude," Dean went on as if Sam hadn't said anything. "They're also saying there was some animal attack a few miles from here. Some girl's throat was ripped clean out by something with a lot of sharp teeth. They found her body in the middle of a crossroads, Sam. You want to tell me about that?" Dean's expression had gone serious. Sam shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"I…I did it….I mean, I killed her, Dean," Sam explained brokenly, no longer able to look his brother directly in the eye. Dean could see the tears drifting down his brother's too white face and he felt his own heart breaking. Yet, he couldn't help but feel relieved to see it, just that last bit of proof confirming that Sam was still Sam, confirming that all of Dean's suspicions were correct and that demon bitch had done something to his baby brother.

"Sam, tell me what happened. What did the crossroads demon do to you?" Dean tried to sound calm, tried to soothe his devastated brother, but it was nearly impossible to keep the rage for that red-eyed manipulator out of his voice.

"It was my fault, Dean. I…I miscalculated everything. I messed up bad," Sam was telling him and the older Winchester remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. "Dean, I actually thought that the loophole would be enough. I thought that…as much as they _wanted _to torture your soul…it just wasn't that important to them in the big scheme of things. But, Dean…she was…furious. She said they had some kind of plans for us and I messed them up."

"Wait a minute. Plans? Like you leading some demon army plans?" Dean asked.

"I don't think so. The way she talked about it…It was something a lot worse, Dean. A lot bigger. Something that involved both of us, but she wouldn't say anything else about it except that they were pissed and they had a plan B."

"Okay, well that's just ten kinds of awesome," Dean stated flatly as he rolled his eyes. "So how does all of this lead to the dead girl in the middle of the road?" Sam flinched before continuing.

"She knew everything, Dean. She knew about the cure. She knew about my plan. She said the only way Lilith wouldn't come here with her own army of demons and make our lives hell on earth for embarrassing them…was if I actually bought what I was selling. Door number three, she called it. Dean, she wanted to watch me feed or they were going to torture you anyway. Maybe they couldn't take you to hell anymore, but that wasn't going to stop them from hurting you and finding some other way to get us both to hell."

"Sammy, none of this is making any sense. If my not going to hell is messing up some master plan, then why give up for any reason? There has to be more to it than that. Some other way that what you did put a kink in their chain. Like maybe they can't use you as a vampire, but that doesn't make sense either because then they'd want you take the cure, not be stuck like this." Sam smiled hesitantly at his brother. People really did tend to underestimate Dean, but he was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. After all, he had been a hunter his entire life and he knew how to search out the finer details of the case. But this time…Sam didn't know if he was ready for Dean to know the whole truth.

"Dean, I…" How do you break something like this to your brother? Oh hey, Dean. By the way, I had demon blood in me and I knew about it for the past year and just didn't tell you. Yeah, but don't worry. It's gone now. I'm all vamp. Too bad it pissed off a bunch of demons, huh? Instead Sam went with, "Dean, I really don't know. She was pretty close lipped." Dean would be furious if he had to find out on his own later, but for now he had enough to deal with, with Sam being a vampire and all.

"That figures," Dean mumbled to himself. "But Sam, I can't believe that you let me think that you…I could've killed you." Sam sighed deeply before looking intently at his brother who looked stunned to see anything resembling a breath coming from his undead brother.

"You still need to kill me, Dean," Sam said seriously. "That thing you thought I did, the one you can't even say out loud right now, I really did do that, Dean. I really killed that girl. I ripped her throat out with my teeth, and for a second…for a second I liked it. For one second it felt good. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me that it wasn't you," Dean argued back forcefully. "It tells me that some demon bitch was messing with your head. You're a new vampire, Sam. What do you expect to happen when some psycho demon practically shoves a girl's neck in your mouth?"

"It _was_ me, Dean!" the vampire shouted back, growing frustrated with Dean's stubbornness. Why couldn't the hunter just see the truth? Why couldn't he just do what he had promised? "The demon didn't shove her neck in my mouth. Yeah, she told me to bite, but I'm the one who bit. I have no one to blame but myself. I knew what I was doing, and I _chose _to do it. And once I started, I couldn't stop. But at first, there wasn't even the bloodlust, Dean. As long as the demon was in the girl I didn't want her, so I can't even blame it on that. There was nothing driving me to kill but me. I knew once the demon left I'd kill the girl, and I started the feeding anyway."

"Me…" Dean muttered, watching the floor intently.

"What?"

"Me. I was driving you to kill. You did it to save me," the hunter told him.

"God, Dean. Don't take this on yourself. My bad choices aren't your fault, big brother. But I need you to do one last thing for me."

"I'm not killing my brother!" Dean growled menacingly. Why couldn't Sam see that things didn't always have to end in his death? Why was that Sam's solution to everything?

"You said it yourself, Dean. I've been dead for hours."

"No, I won't do it, Sam." The older brother stated flatly. End of discussion. Sam watched him sadly. There was no getting through to Dean now. The grief was obviously beginning to affect his brother's judgment, but in a way this would be Sam's third death. That was a lot to put your brother through.

"Fine. I get it. I'll just do it myself," the vampire offered quietly. However, Dean was livid at the thought. There was no way in hell Sam was dying yet again. There was no way he was leaving him again. Yeah, maybe it was selfish…But how many chances did Dean get to be selfish? His whole life was about saving everyone else, so why not Sam this once? Why not himself? He just couldn't believe this was the end, that all of his family would be gone.

"Like hell, Sam," Dean snapped. "Don't think I wouldn't make another deal for you. I'm not giving up on you."

"You'd really do that? Make a deal to bring back a VAMPIRE? Because I am pretty sure that even if they could bring me back human, they wouldn't."

"Damn straight I would," the hunter shot back.

"So then what, Dean? We're just going to ignore this? Pretend everything's fine and nothing's changed? And you're just going to look the other way every time I kill someone? You're fine with that? Because that's what's gonna happen if you don't kill me now." The vampire tried one last time to get his foolish brother to recognize the severity of the situation.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind, no," Dean answered nonchalantly. "You're the one who's always saying nothing's black and white. We do have more than two options here. For once, this doesn't have to be kill or be killed, Sammy. So, I say, we do this your way and we take door number three which you seem so fond of."

"Yeah, because door number three worked out so well the last time," Sam grumbled sarcastically. "Besides, I honestly think we're out of options on this one."

"Lenore," Dean winked.

"What? What about her?" the vampire asked cautiously, but he had a fairly good idea what Dean was getting at.

"You remember her, right, Sammy? You know, the vampire chick that, _ding ding ding, _doesn't drink human blood? So, what if we found her nest and they teach you to do the...uh…cattle mutilation thingy?" his brother suggested.

"Dean," Sam started exasperatedly, "it's not that the thought hasn't crossed my mind. But we have no idea where they are, and tracking them could take months. Not to mention…how long do you think it takes to build up that kind of self-control? How long do you think it takes to get off human blood completely? Because I am guessing _years_, Dean. How many people are you willing to sacrifice for me to learn that kind of control?" Sam was desperate. Pleading. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to die. He didn't want that at all. But as far as he was concerned, Sam Winchester died when he walked into the vampires' cabin, and what walked out…Sam just couldn't reconcile with. Not ever.

"But if anyone can have that kind of control, it's you, Sammy. I mean, you are so stubborn, man. You're still fighting me on this. I know you can do this," Dean assured him stubbornly, but Sam didn't feel assured. Sam felt angry.

"Damn it, Dean!" he yelled frantically. "Why can't you understand this? Even if I can control this thing, I don't want to have to. I don't want to be this! I don't want to live like this!"

"Well, good thing you're not 'living' then, isn't it?" Dean deadpanned. "We're finding Lenore and no one is dying. End of story." God, Dean was such a stubborn ass!

"Whatever," Sam grumbled as he pushed the comforter to the side and got the rest of the way up and out of bed. As he started to move away from the bed, Dean stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom, if that's all right with you!"

"Oh." Dean looked somewhat perplexed. "So…you still…?"

"Apparently," Sam snapped as he marched into the bathroom and slammed the door shut hard behind him, causing the entire frame to rattle.

"Just be sure to keep your head on in there!" Dean shouted after his upset vampire brother.

**~SSSSSSSSSNNNNNNN~**

Dean allowed himself to relax when the muffled sounds of the shower running reached his ears. Sam would be fine in there. There was nothing particularly useful in the bathroom as far as a beheading was concerned, and after what Dean had said he doubted Sam would try anything anyway. It had been a low blow threatening to make another deal, especially after how hard Sam had been taking the first one. Yet, Dean couldn't help using any tool necessary in keeping his little brother safe. Not to mention…he had been serious. After all, he was supposed to protect Sammy, not let him die. How many times was he supposed to fail at that? Well, it wasn't happening again, not under his watch.

Of course, being a hunter his entire life, Dean was uncomfortably aware of the risk he was taking with Sam. Not just over his own safety, but countless others' as well. Controlling Sam…well, Dean didn't expect it to be easy. That task was hard enough when Sam had been human. Now, Dean was painfully aware of the fact that, yes, Sam might have had a point. It probably would take years for Sam to fully adjust, but Dean was confident that as long as he remained by his brother's side he could prevent him from becoming a killer. It would be hard, but Sam could do it even if he had to fight against every instinct his now vampiric body was pushing at him. Sam was a fighter, and this was just one more thing to fight. Dean just hoped that Sam wouldn't fight _him _too much. He did understand. Really. If he was turned into something they hunted, he'd want to die too. But Sam was the one who had given vampires a chance in the past, the one who had believed in them, so why couldn't he just give himself a chance as well? Dean was willing to do that, and somehow he would show Sam that everything was going to be all right. With forced optimism in mind, Dean rested his back against the headboard, stretched out his legs, and went back to his reading. He would be the vampire expert before the night was up.

**~SSSSSSSNNNNNN~**

Sam stood stiffly under the running water. The sound of every drop was intensified, the feel of hot water pouring down his back pleasantly alerting nerves he didn't even know he had. Still, Sam couldn't bring himself to concentrate on the shower because despite the roaring static of thousands of water droplets colliding with the shower floor and the squealing resonance of old hotel pipes, Sam's ears were instinctively drawn to the gentle _thud…thud…thud _in the adjoining room. It was hypnotizing in its tranquil beauty, but sickening in what it truly meant. As much as Sam wanted to be grateful that his brother was still willing to accept him and to not run out on him, and as much as Dean's nearby heartbeat was a testament to that, it was also a testament to something so much worse. There was a part of Sam that saw Dean as prey. There was a part of the vampire that couldn't help but hone in on a potential meal, and there was no comfort in that. Sam tried to block it out, tried to focus on the feel of the running water, but it was hard.

After stepping out of the shower, Sam wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror. It was the first time he had seen himself since the change and he felt sick. The first thing he noticed was the utter paleness of his skin, a stark whiteness that was unusual as he remembered his once soft tan. He tried to look past it as he picked up his comb and ran it through his longish hair. He had always prided himself on his deep chestnut locks, but now the dark color was too much of a contrast against the pale skin, making it even more noticeable, and his hair appeared even darker when wet which didn't help. He frowned as he put the comb down on the sink. He didn't want to see these obvious signs that something was different, that something inside of him had drastically changed. As he continued his explorations it struck him that his skin was more than just pale; it was perfect, unblemished and unscarred. He ran his hands over his chest and arms. Every scar he had ever received…gone. Disappeared. In other circumstances Sam might have been happy to be rid of the ugly scars. Even he had a little bit of vanity, and some of them were rather difficult to explain. But now, the loss of those scars felt like the most devastating part of his transformation. All evidence of ever having been a hunter was gone, leaving just a vampire in its place. Impatiently, Sam ripped the heavy bandages from below his neck where the once aching skin had been bloody and badly bruised, reflecting every shade of blue and purple in the spectrum only hours before. Once again, he was met with the sight of perfect white skin as if nothing had ever happened. As if he had simply just always been this way, always been this thing. The vampire huffed his frustration before getting dressed and going out to join his brother.

Dean had moved from his bed to the table near the window, the journal resting openly near the edge and Sam's laptop directly in front of him. Slowly, Sam walked to his own bed and sat down. He watched his brother for a few minutes without saying a word. He was still mad, but what could he do about it? As much as Sam wanted to end this whole thing, there was a part of him that understood where the older Winchester was coming from. After all, Sam hadn't taken Dean's imminent death any better, had he? His new existence was proof of that. It was the least Sam could do to play along for a little while. Eventually Dean would get it. Sam just hoped that that wasn't after he had killed another innocent. Yet, that was the most likely scenario. Frustrating, pig headed brothers! He just really hoped he wouldn't hurt Dean. But one way or another that was inevitable, be it physically or otherwise.

"So, we got a plan?" Sam finally vocalized.

"Yeah," Dean answered as he shifted his glance from the computer to his brother. "I was thinking we stick around here a few more hours until midnight. You know, just to be sure. Then we get the hell out of dodge."

"Brilliant idea," Sam huffed, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. "So, you're going to willingly put yourself in an enclosed space with a vampire? That should end well. And where are we going, anyway?"

"I can watch my own back, Sam," Dean growled, truly becoming annoyed with the never ending argument. "And I don't know yet, but anywhere is better than here. We don't need the police asking questions."

"Okay. I am really trying to be with you on this, Dean. Really, I am," Sam argued as Dean rolled his eyes. "It's just…"

"It's just what, Sam?" Dean prodded the vampire.

"I think I'm different from normal vampires. More dangerous even. The crossroads demon…she said I was normal as far as vampires go, but something is wrong. I know it, Dean. The vampires in the cabin, there were five of them. They kept the girl alive for two days feeding from her slowly. And the five of them were able to share me without completely draining me. But I…I completely drained that girl all by myself in one feeding. I just don't see how this is going to work." Dean shook his head knowingly and tossed their father's journal to Sam who caught it easily.

"Unfortunately, that _is _normal for a newborn. You're kind of like a dog that doesn't know when to quit eating so it just keeps stuffing itself until it explodes. But, eventually you learn moderation," the hunter informed him.

"_Eventually _I learn _moderation_?" the vampire questioned exasperatedly. "You really want to do this? Lock yourself in a car with the exploding dog?"

"Yeah, I know. It sucks, man," Dean conceded smugly. "Maybe if you were one of those Chihuahuas or even a Lab, but it's just my luck to get stuck with the Great Dane of vampires. This could get messy."

"Hilarious," Sam mumbled as he flipped open the journal and started his own in-depth research. He still couldn't believe he was doing this.

The rest of the night was mostly spent in silence, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and the deal to officially become nothing more than a memory of something that did not come to pass. Sam finished reading through his father's notes and looking up vampire lore on the Internet. The brothers also managed to get in a few quick games of poker, which actually did ease some of the tension in the room.

Sam was hungry, but it wasn't in that all-consuming way and it wasn't impossible or even difficult to fight just yet. His reluctance to hurt his only family made it easier. It was also the fact that Dean's heartbeat was so inappropriately calm despite everything. Sam knew that Dean wasn't as calm as he projected. He was sweating a little bit and he was fidgeting more than usual, but overall he managed himself well and Sam knew that was for him. Hastened, fearful heartbeats meant better tasting food. Plus, it was the normal reaction of prey before it died. But as Dean remained calm, continued to interact with his brother, and continued to care about his brother, the tiny voice in the back of Sam's mind that repeated prey…prey…prey…with every _thud…thud…thud…_began to say nest…nest…nest…instead. It was weird, but Sam hoped it was enough to keep Dean safe when they were trapped in the Impala together. It would have been better for Dean to wait until morning when Sam was out of it to get into a car with him, but even he knew that time was of the essence. Besides, Sam didn't look forward to being out in the sunlight. Maybe it wouldn't kill him, but it sure hurt like hell.

Eventually the old motel clock ticked off 12:00 AM and both brothers looked at each other with relief etched on their faces. No demons came. Sam's idiocy, as Dean liked to think of it, was at least not in vain. Quietly the Winchester brothers packed up their gear, stepped out into the dark night, and into the Impala.

Sam ran his hand gently over the cover of their father's journal before slipping it wordlessly into the glove box.

"Something bothering you, Sammy?" Dean asked as he got into the driver's side and read his brother's tight expression.

"It's just…Dad would be so furious if he was here. You're a hunter, Dean, and you're driving around with a vampire riding shotgun. This isn't exactly on par with Dad's training."

"Sam, I am a hunter driving around with another hunter who is my brother, and who just _happens_ to also be a vampire. Don't you forget that," Dean told the vampire confidently, earning him a bright smile. "Oh god!" Dean groaned. "That was the King Koopa of chick flicks right there, wasn't it? I think we've met our quota for one day. And would you stop beaming at me, Sam! It's freaking me out!" With that, Dean turned the key and started up his baby before driving them out of the cheap hotel and into a new life.

"Shit!" Dean suddenly shouted. "Sam, dude, you are never driving my baby again. What, were you just driving in circles all night? She's on empty, man. That's not good for my car, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mumbled, smile still firmly in place as he listened to the gentle _nest…nest…nest…_in Dean's chest telling him that maybe someday everything really could be okay.

A/N: Don't worry, I won't make things too easy. More to come soon. Thanks for reading!


	4. Idjits!

**Chapter 4: Idjits!**

Dean inconspicuously glanced over toward the vampire in his passenger seat before averting his eyes back to the dark road before him. He wasn't nearly as relaxed about this whole situation as he had been letting on. It wasn't that he was particularly nervous about Sam attacking him. He figured that was bound to happen at some point and he was prepared to deal with it. In a completely nonfatal way, of course. After all, it was better him than some poor unsuspecting stranger, right? But the thing that frightened Dean the most was that he had no freaking clue what he was doing. How do you take care of a vampire? So far, the only thing on the list was "Find Lenore," but who knew how long that would take? They could only track cattle mutilations so far and if the vampires were covering their tracks they'd do their best to keep such things concealed. So, what to do in the meantime?

Dean looked nervously at the gas gauge. Shit! What was it with Sam and needing to mope and drive at the same time? He couldn't just sit still and do that? Now they were in quite the predicament if you asked Dean. They weren't going anywhere without stopping for gas, but what was he supposed to do with the vampire riding shotgun? He couldn't just leave Sam somewhere. Sam may be a fighter, but that didn't mean Dean didn't want to keep an eye on him. Anything could happen. But bringing Sam to the gas station and around humans certainly wasn't a better option.

"We need gas," Dean said, voice flat and eyes still on the road. Sam watched his brother's expression closely. One hundred percent game face and not so much as a twitch. But Sam knew exactly what Dean was thinking regardless. He had been thinking much the same thing.

"Should be fine," Sam answered with a determined nod of his head. "I mean, I'm hungry, sure, but I don't feel like attacking you or anything."

"You sure about that?" Dean asked with a smirk. "We're talkin' '79 Winchester here. I'm like fine wine to vamps." The vampire just rolled his eyes.

"Fine wine, Dean? More like cheap beer."

"Yeah, well, whatever keeps those freaky ass teeth of yours out of my skin is fine with me, Sammy," the hunter grumbled, sparing a quick glance to his brother.

"Seriously," Sam started, "you don't actually smell all that appetizing to me anymore. I don't know. I just don't feel like drinking your blood."

"Okay, that's a little odd, isn't it? Shouldn't you be near starving soon?" Dean wondered out loud.

"I don't know. Guess I'm just not in the mood." Sam shrugged.

"All right then," Dean conceded somewhat unsurely. A couple of minutes later he pulled into a small gas station on the edge of town. He was relieved to find it deserted so late at night. With only the cashier to worry about, Dean felt the tension ease from his shoulders. As long as no one else showed up, everything should be just fine. He'd just have to make it quick.

"Okay, Sam. Lock the door and don't move. If anyone else comes just keep your head down and stay in the car. You got me? I'll just be in and out," the older brother ordered the younger firmly. Sam nodded, somewhat annoyed with being treated like a child…again…but understanding the urgency as well. He watched Dean slide out of the Impala and begin filling the tank.

Sam could feel the saliva building in his mouth as he became aware of the cashier standing behind the counter inside the station. He was a good distance away and indoors, but that didn't mean Sam wasn't aware of the scent of his blood or the beating of his heart anyway. Sam was used to having some form of freaky abilities to cope with, but nothing like this. There was a part of him that almost just wanted to put the demon blood back in and call a do-over. However, that wasn't possible, and even if he could actually go back in time he knew he wouldn't change anything, even despite knowing he'd never be human again and his brother would refuse to end his existence. Dean's cocky smirk as he finished fueling the sleek black car and protective tap at the window before pointing and rushing into the station to pay was an easy reminder that it had all been worth it.

Sam spent his energy focusing on Dean's heartbeat and not the cashier's as he watched them through the glass because for whatever reason Dean had become an equal, a nonfood item, and the cashier was most definitely on the menu. It was one of the most difficult temptations the vampire had dealt with in his relatively short existence and it took quite a lot of restraint, but he was managing it. That is, he was managing it until a group of half drunken college students pulled up at the pump next to his.

The truck was long and black, sleek like the Impala, but much newer. It had that luxurious and expensive quality. A graduation gift from wealthy parents, perhaps. The vehicle itself was jam packed with more passengers than it was meant to carry. A shaggy haired blond man in his early twenties with a cowboy hat and a scruffy face was hanging out the passenger window whooping and hollering as the driver, a more subdued looking fellow with thick glasses and a crooked nose, was yelling at him to reign it in. Two equally unimpressed girls were pinched in the middle, the one on the right halfway on the cowboy's lap. The driver pushed his door open as the cowboy pulled himself out the window on the other side, knocking the annoyed girl off of himself, and ran around to pat the geeky looking guy on the back.

"Woo! Man! That was some kind of party. Dude, I heard Greg's roommates are out for the weekend. We've still got a twelve pack in the back. Wanna go kick back a few with the girls?" the cowboy enthused. The glasses clad young man shifted about uneasily, looking back and forth between the cowboy and the girls in the truck.

"I don't know, man…Finals are coming up and all…"

"Don't be such a nerd, dweebo! You're lucky to be hanging out with someone like me. It's good for your rep, but if you're gonna blow it on some dumb tests…" Cowboy was mocking the other man impatiently. Sam could smell the alcohol in his blood, in all of their blood. It sent shivers down his spine. Easy prey, he couldn't stop the thought from forming.

"Just leave him alone, Levi!" one of the girls, a pissed off looking brunette wearing too much makeup and too little of everything else, called out the window as she poked her head out. "Everyone knows you're just using him for his truck. It's late and I want to go home."

"You'll go home when I'm ready to go home, Emma!" the intoxicated cowboy, Levi, spat crudely. Ooh, Sam was twitching now. Actually, he was practically seizing as he held himself back. He could feel his fangs fighting to release themselves, sweat pooling on his forehead, body so tense it was shaking, and hands clenched into tight fists. He could barely think straight as his vision clouded over and his hearing instinctively zoned in on the rushing of blood through veins. Don't do it! He was screaming into his own mind, but the thoughts were jumbled. They were being overlapped by an even more powerful thought that just kept trying to reason with him to let go and let his instincts guide him. God! Maybe if he could just kill the stupid one? Would that really be so bad? Damn it! Of course it would! His body was shaking even harder now, pulsing with the need for blood.

"Hey, Sammy," he heard Dean's gruff voice as the driver's door was opened and his brother slid into the car. "I just realized it's your birthday so I got you something," he said as he tossed something at Sam, but the vampire couldn't bring himself out of the blood haze enough to register it. "Sammy?" Dean asked worriedly. "You all right?"

"Dean, get me the hell out of here!" the vampire grunted harshly between clenched teeth. His eyes flashed as the light from the gas station caught them, a glinting predator yellow like a vicious feline on the prowl. Glancing between the vampire and the shouting kids just outside his car, Dean cringed. Sam didn't have to tell him twice; it was time to put the pedal to the metal.

**~SSSSSSNNNNN~**

It had been ten minutes since Dean had squealed out of the gas station parking lot, and Sam wasn't looking any better. It was almost terrifying, like the kid was having some sort of breathless panic attack. His body was twitching uncontrollably, his fangs had come out and were clenched together tightly, and his sweat dampened hair was hanging maniacally in his eyes. Not that Sam seemed aware of much of anything anymore.

Dean suddenly pulled over on the side of the dark country highway. Sam seemed to regain some of his focus as he felt the car stop.

"W-where are w-we, Dean?" the vampire managed to stutter out, body still rigid.

"Get out of the car, Sam," the hunter commanded. Sam felt something within him stir. Was this it? Did Dean finally realize that keeping him "alive" was futile? Did he drive him out here to the middle of nowhere to decapitate him and be done with the burden he had become?

Slowly, Sam got out of the car and followed his brother who seemed to be leading him further out into a grassy field, presumably to the "second and final death." Suddenly, Dean just stopped and Sam almost collided with his brother's back.

"Dean?" he asked.

"Bon appetit," Dean answered with a childish grin and a gesture. Sam craned his head to look at what his brother had been gesturing at and was stunned to see half a dozen cows standing lazily in the field. They hadn't even registered to him before now, but why should they? They weren't a threat, and they weren't food.

"Dean…" Sam said again.

"Come on, man," Dean groaned as he shoved his younger brother toward the closest cow. "Just do your thing."

"I…what…" the vampire stammered. It wasn't lost on him that he was suddenly a lot calmer and a lot less hungry. These cows smelled disgusting, come to think of it. Dean just kept gesturing toward the creature, stupid grin still plastered on his face. Oh, he was enjoying this all right. But Sam, not so much. "You want me to just…bite it?" he asked sickly. He'd gone from ivory white to puke green in a matter of seconds and his second set of teeth had fled just as quickly, hiding away safely from the hideous mooing beast before him.

"Yeah, I guess. So, hurry up already. Just make with the fangs so we can get out of here."

"I…uh…I can't, Dean. They won't come out. What should I do?" Sam asked him nervously.

"Do I look like Lenore to you?" Dean growled. "Shit, Sam! This is why I wanted to find her. I don't know. Just bite it and maybe they'll come out," he offered. Sam didn't look too sure about that one. It was especially embarrassing to have Dean watching him, but what other option did he have? He leaned in and attempted to jab blunt teeth into leathery flesh. It wasn't going so well and he felt stupid, chewing on a cow's neck. The cow didn't even flinch.

"They doing anything yet?" the elder Winchester inquired with a lift of his brow. Sam backed away from the beast, sputtering out little white hairs and rubbing his tongue with his hand.

"Nah, but I think I chipped a tooth," the little brother whined. Dean just quirked his brow at the vampire before sticking the mooing creature with his blade allowing a trickle of blood to escape the protesting cow's thick skin.

"Okay. Try it now," he ordered, but the vampire was giving him such a disgusted look that it seemed like Dean was asking him to do the most putrid thing in the world. Dean sighed. "What's the problem now, Sammy?"

"It smells like ass, Dean," the vampire was grumbling with a dark expression brewing on his features. The cow had since started walking away from the brothers, sleep effectively disturbed.

"It's getting away! Just suck it up and take it like a man!"

"Fine." Sam did the only thing he could think to do in such a situation. He licked the cow's neck. But of course the blood tasted like vomit, and Sam would know. Mostly because that's exactly what he was doing at the moment. Vomiting.

After his body finally stopped retching, he managed a shaky look at his brother. He expected Dean to be laughing at him. After all, what's funnier than your idiot kid brother making out with cow neck? At least it was embarrassing enough for him. Yet, when Sam looked at Dean, the older man was most definitely not laughing. In fact, he looked just as frustrated as Sam, and maybe even a little disappointed.

Of course none of this was really funny, was it? They had needed this to work, and it hadn't. They were desperate, and Sam couldn't help but feel as though he had failed his big brother. It wasn't that he expected being a vampire to be easy. Far from it, in fact. But if vampires before him had managed to survive without human blood, then why not him? What had they done differently?

"All right, Sam. Just go sit in the car. I got this," Dean told him.

"But Dean…"

"I said sit in the god damn car!" Dean's voice left no room for protest, and Sam found he didn't feel like arguing with him anyway. Instead, the new vampire just trudged back to the Impala and plopped down gracelessly in the passenger seat. Could things get any worse?

A few minutes later Dean got into the car and dropped a jar full of cow's blood on Sam's lap. Sam grimaced.

"Seriously, man?" Sam asked him, crinkling up his nose in distaste.

"We'll try again later. You seem fine for now, though."

"Yeah, that pretty much murdered my appetite," the vampire admitted as he lifted the jar to eye level and tilted it back and forth in examination. "Where'd you get the jar? I don't remember bringing one."

"Found it," Dean smirked, offering a quick wink at the grumbling vampire.

"Dean!" Sam groaned. "Who knows where this thing's been! Who knows what was in it!"

"Not like it'll 'kill' ya," his older brother quipped. Sam just rolled his eyes and looked away as Dean started the car and pulled back onto the highway. A couple of minutes later he felt something fall near his feet. He bent over to pick the offending item up off the ground and held it up before him.

"Um…Dean? What's this?" he asked with a slight rise to his voice. Dean shifted his gaze to the object in Sam's hand for a minute before his countenance took on an amused demeanor.

"Oh right. Just a little gift. Happy birthday, Sammy." The older brother stated with a wink.

"It's a…porn magazine," Sam exclaimed, eyebrows raising and forehead crinkling. Leave it to Dean…

"Yep," Dean smiled hugely. "Am I an awesome big brother or what?"

"Or what," Sam teased, but he was smiling too.

"Hey, come on, dude!" Dean protested in mock hurt. "It was a sleazy gas station. It was either that or a pack of batteries. Should have gone with the batteries." And they were both laughing.

Truth be told, Dean hadn't expected to still be around, and it had seemed kind of silly to celebrate. Now that Dean was still alive and kicking, he would have gladly done something more for his little brother. Normally, he'd take the kid out for a few beers, but that was a moot point after everything that had happened in the past couple of days. Take Sam into the bar and it wouldn't be the alcohol he'd want to be drinking. That thought alone made Dean cringe. Would anything ever be normal again? Would they ever just be able to go out and do all of the little things they had taken for granted? They had never had much, but it took Sam becoming a vampire for Dean to realize that they'd had more than he was willing to acknowledge. Even that was gone now. Sadly, he knew that Sam knew it too.

**~SSSSSSNNNNNN~**

It took another hour to find an old abandoned house to squat in, but there was no other choice. Taking a hungry vampire to a motel was about as dangerous as it could get. Sure, Dean was known for asking for trouble every now and again, but he wasn't stupid. As it was, the elder Winchester managed to stumble across a decrepit old two story farmhouse filled with cobwebs, broken floorboards, and all of the creaks and groans that came with creepy old houses. It wasn't comfortable, but it felt safe.

Sam had snuggled up in a dusty old armchair, but by no means was the young vampire doing anything resembling relaxing. In fact, the poor kid looked half out of his mind with hunger once again. He would shake and squirm in the seat, and strangely he had begun to heave in deep agitated breaths. Dean assumed he was simply trying to calm himself down, but attempting to breathe through dead lungs only seemed to agitate the poor kid further. It was painful to watch.

Dean needed some fresh air and he needed it now. He stepped out onto the dark porch and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. What the hell was he supposed to do? He was supposed to be protecting his brother, but how could he do that with Sam so unresponsive and uncooperative? Okay, so maybe he wasn't being that way on purpose, but it still wasn't helping! The cow's blood wouldn't work if he couldn't keep it down, and all it was doing was making him sick.

Dean sighed as he lowered himself onto the creaky old porch steps. He was actually surprised Sam hadn't attacked him already. He had to give it to his brother. He had amazing willpower. But sooner or later….And what was Dean supposed to do when Sam attacked? One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to last much longer, and Dean definitely couldn't let a hungry vamp run free.

Slowly he pulled out his phone and frowned. It was off. He had turned it off when the whole vampire ruckus had begun. He waited for it to power on. Freakin' hell! Fourteen missed calls from Bobby…. With everything that had been going on, Dean had completely forgotten about Bobby. That man was like a second father to him and now he thought Dean was dead and being ripped apart in hell! And who knew what he thought Sam was doing? Probably figured he was on some reckless, suicidal mission to get Dean back. Actually, that last bit wasn't too far off.

He'd have to call the man back. He didn't know how to explain everything to him. Hell, he didn't know how to explain it to himself. One thing was for certain, though, he'd sure be surprised to get a call from Dean.

**~SSSSSSNNNN~**

Bobby Singer was speeding down the interstate in his rusty old truck like a cat that had just been dropped in a tub of water. Damned idjits! He'd been trying to call Dean since the previous morning, but the idjit had turned his phone off. He could understand Dean wanting to share his last day with Sam, but those boys were like sons to him. He had at least wanted to say goodbye to the kid, to talk to him one more time. He didn't know what he would have said. There was nothing he could say that was going to change anything or make anything better, but he would have liked to say it. He would have liked Dean to know that he had Bobby as well as Sam, a little bit of support and hope to hold onto in hell.

All of that was for naught now, though. It was hours past midnight. Dean was dead and long since in hell, suffering unknown tortures he couldn't begin to imagine. Dean didn't deserve it. Not one damn bit. It was too late now, though. Dean was gone forever, an anomaly for good in a world of bad.

Well, if Bobby Singer couldn't save Dean, then he was going to save Sam. Those two boys were as close as brothers could be and no sacrifice was too great for the other. Whatever Sam was doing now, Bobby shuddered to think. Sam's phone had been on, but either it was set to silent or the boy just wasn't answering. Neither would surprise him. Bobby just hoped he wasn't too late. He just knew Sam was out there doing something foolhardy. That is exactly why Bobby had been tracking the GPS in the kid's phone. What he was doing on the outskirts of a small town in Ohio, Bobby had no idea.

Suddenly, Bobby's worrying was cut off by the buzzing of his own phone. He reached one hand over to flip it upwards and peer at the caller ID. That was strange. The call was coming from Dean's phone. Why was Sam calling him from Dean's cell phone? Poor Sam must be doing worse than he thought. Bobby hit the answer key and put the phone to his ear.

"Sam? What's going on, boy? I been callin' all day," Bobby's rough voice demandingly growled into the tiny phone.

"Bobby," a desperate voice quietly pleaded, raucous and pained. Bobby would know that voice anywhere.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Bobby. It's me," the voice answered, but sounded utterly miserable. Could this really be Dean? The call was coming from Dean's phone and the voice was so much like the voice Bobby knew, but Dean was in hell. Then again, no creature could fake that amount of sentiment and heartbreak, which meant only one thing…

"Balls! Tell me that idjit is still alive?" the gruff hunter growled again into the phone in worry and frustration. The other end remained silent except for broken, shallow breathing. Oh, this was bad. "Dean?"

"He's…well, that depends on how you look at it," was the eventual hesitant reply. Bobby sighed deeply, face contorting into confusion and fear.

"Dean, you're not makin' a lick of sense. I need you to stay with me, boy. What's Sam done?"

"There isn't time to explain it all over the phone, but it's bad, Bobby. It's real bad. I just," Dean sounded so broken and lost, "I just don't know what to do. I need you to get here."

"It's going to be okay, kid," Bobby assured him, desperately hoping it wasn't a lie, "I know where you are. I've been tracking Sam's phone and I'm already heading in your direction. I'll be there in a few hours."

"Yeah, thanks Bobby," Dean replied. "I've got to get back inside. Sam needs me…" Then there was nothing but a click and silence on the other end. Bobby tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat before pressing down firmly on the gas pedal. The whole truck was rumbling with protest, but Bobby didn't care. His boys were in trouble and he felt damn sorry for any cop that would try to stop him.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read or reviewed! Sorry to cut it off here! I know some people really want to see Bobby's reaction, but this just felt like the natural ending place. Next time, I promise!


	5. The Pieces That Remain

**Chapter 5: **The Pieces that Remain

Bobby pulled up quickly into the dark yard. His hands shook as he switched off the ignition and ambled out of the truck, the gentle chirrup of crickets lost to him as his hand automatically reached for his brow to wipe away a drop of sweat that had escaped the confines of his baseball cap. He sighed with relief at the sight of Dean, but it was only a fleeting sense of peace as his mind registered the boy's state. It was a sight that would haunt his memories for the rest of his life.

Dean sat rigidly on the porch steps, his frame hunched over to a degree that had to be terribly uncomfortable. His shoulders trembled in erratic, patternless heaves of despair, and his fingers dug tightly into the muscles of his legs so that Bobby imagined the tips of his nails piercing through the denim and drawing blood from his flesh. Yet, most terrifying of all were his eyes. They were dead eyes that didn't look up to meet his gaze. Hopeless, distraught, and nearly numb eyes that were slicked with heavy tears and stared straight ahead in unseeing madness.

But it wasn't the first time Dean had donned such eyes. Oh no. Bobby could remember a time…a time in Cold Oak not so long ago when Dean had looked just like this. When the usually strong, game-faced, shit-happens-but-nothing-can-bother-me Dean Winchester had let it all fall to the wayside and shatter at his feet like the world had betrayed him for the last time.

And that's when Bobby knew, just from the look in Dean's eyes…

Sam was dead.

Bobby didn't move towards the younger man right away. He couldn't. Sam had always been mostly Dean's, a job (no, not a job but a promise) that the older brother took to heart, but he was Bobby's too. How could he not be? Sam had still been an infant the first time he'd laid eyes on the little tike. Bobby had raised Dean, and Dean had raised Sam, and Bobby had helped when Dean had let him. And John? Well, he'd been there, and then he hadn't, and then he had again. But really it was mostly Bobby and Dean and Sam and one odd dog or another.

He sucked in a shaky breath, knowing he needed to approach this situation with caution. He remembered Cold Oak all too clearly, and Dean was quite volatile when it came to Sam dying – a situation that should not be able to happen multiple times, but that was their life. Taking off his hat in his own display of mourning, Bobby slowly approached the shaking form on the porch. He cleared his throat so as not to startle the boy, since the truck roaring up the drive and squealing to a crooked halt on the front lawn hadn't seemed to alert Dean to his presence.

"Dean," he ventured. He took another step closer when the boy didn't respond. "Dean, son…"

"How could I let this happen? Why wasn't I watching him?" Dean mumbled almost inaudibly, proving that he did know Bobby was there. That was a good sign at least. "It's my job to protect him, and I knew he wasn't okay, but I let this happen."

Dean's words cut the aging hunter's heart to the core.

"Now, you listen here, idjit," the grisly man demanded. He found it difficult to find his voice through his own grief, but he needed to set this damn fool straight before he tried to join his brother. "Now, I don't know what happened tonight, Dean. I don't know what Sam's gone and done…if he's made a new deal or what. But whatever it is, you ain't responsible for it any more than he was responsible for you going out of your fool head and selling your soul to get him back. You made your choice, and so did he. If ya ask me, you're both damned idjits, and I don't know how many times the two of you have to die or come close to dying for one another before you realize how much you're actually hurting each other." Dean flinched at his words, but Bobby continued anyway. "You ain't your brother's keeper, boy. Now, this needs to end before you both end up in hell! It's bad enough I lost the one of ya! I ain't losing you too! I just ain't."

"It's too late now anyway, Bobby," Dean said.

"He in there?" Bobby asked with a nod of his head toward the decrepit farmhouse. Dean finally looked at him, guilt written all over his face. A face that has seen too much, Bobby thought. But he'd have to deal with that later. After all, no one did guilt better than a Winchester, Bobby knew. But first, Sam had to be taken care of and if Dean couldn't do it then it was up to him. "You gotta get it together for your brother, Dean. He deserves a hunter's funeral this time around. Not some foolhardy scheme where you run off looking for some demon willing to cram his soul back into his meat suit."

Bobby knew he was being harsh, but he was hurting too. Damn, was he hurting. And Dean responded to tough love more than any other kind. It had always been John's way after all, and Johnny always had his way. Even in death. But Bobby didn't get the response he'd intended to elicit. In fact, Dean's face merely crinkled up into a look of confusion, as if he'd forgotten something, and then went slack again.

"Bobby, you don't understand…"

There was the protest Bobby had been waiting for. Or was it? There was no weight behind the words.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Sam…"

"Sam what?" the older man prompted. Then something dawned on him. "He isn't dead?" Bobby asked, but he was hesitant to put any hope behind the question. The way Dean had looked…

"He's dead," Dean admitted flatly, face growing hard and unreadable as he tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered façade. "He's just not…dead."

"You're making about as much sense as nonalcoholic beer, Dean. I need some sort of explanation. What happened to your brother?" Bobby rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"It's complicated," Dean finally answered, heaving in a deep breath. "Really complicated. I don't even know where to start, Bobby." He rose to his feet suddenly and moved closer to the time-warped door of the paint-chipped house. "I don't even think I have the energy. It's probably best if you just saw for yourself."

Bobby didn't know what to expect when Dean opened the door and ushered him in, but it certainly wasn't what he found there. The room was large, heavy with dust and abandoned webs. The floorboards were old enough to draw the word "ancient" to the mind, and they creaked and groaned with only the slightest touch. Pale moonlight washed in from the open windows lined with shattered glass, and it washed the room out in an eerie blue glow. But Bobby saw none of that because the room's most striking feature was its single occupant. In the middle of that ghostly living room was none other than Sam Winchester himself. He was sitting up straight in an armchair, tense and pale as can be, but alive. Alive! Bobby released a heavy sigh from his tight lungs, replaced the cap on his head, and approached his youngest boy.

"Sam. Thank God, boy."

Sam's head snapped up in an instant, but not with recognition or even with curiosity at the sound of another voice in the room. No, Sam moved like a predator catching wind of a tasty morsel. His pupils dilated, and he fixed the older hunter with a cold, calculating stare so completely unSam like that Bobby felt himself cringe. It was like the boy didn't even know him. Suddenly, a set of pearly white fangs descended, bared at Bobby in a very clear threat.

Bobby was a practiced hunter. More than a good hunter, and certainly more knowledgeable than most. He understood the lore on a menagerie of supernatural creatures, knew a multitude of languages, and could trap a demon in his sleep. But the sight of Sam was just too unsettling. He stumbled back. That sudden movement…was a huge mistake.

The vampire was on his feet in an instant, completely oblivious to the desperate pleas of his brother. He was just… So. Damn. Hungry. He was on Bobby just as fast, knocking the hunter off his feet in a rather impressive show of supernatural strength and agility. It didn't take long to pin the experienced hunter to the dusty, wooden floorboards. He struck for the neck with those deadly fangs, aiming to kill, but not before tasting that sweet, human blood.

But hands were on him before he had the chance. Hands that were prying him away from his intended meal. Hands he found it difficult to resist too strongly, but oh how he wanted to.

"Sammy, no!" a familiar voice shouted at him.

Arms were around him now, firmly holding his own arms securely to his body. But the human on the floor was groaning! So he decided to struggle, to fight against that grasp and get to his prey. He had to be easy, though. It was the ultimate taboo to hurt your own nest leader after all. Absolutely unforgivable.

"The hell…" Bobby grumbled as he pushed himself back up.

"Sammy, you got to calm down," Dean whispered into the vampire's ear in a soothing voice that made Bobby want to whack the boy over the head. Was he seriously trying to reason with a vampire? A damn hungry one at that!

"Dean, we gotta get him detained somehow."

"I know!" Dean growled as he continued to wrestle with one irate supernatural creature. Bobby shook his head, but the cogs in his mind were already turning.

"I have some rope in the truck. Is there something we can tie him to?"

"There's an adjoining bedroom," Dean suggested. "It's furnished. We could tie him to the bed?"

"It'll have to do," Bobby said. "You get him in there if you can. I'll grab the rope."

Dean nodded as Bobby darted out the door. He had to half drag Sam into the bedroom, but he made it just in time for Bobby's return.

"Good. Now, let's get him onto the bed," Bobby said with more calm than he felt. Sam was growling at him viciously, eyes gleaming with every catch of moonlight.

Dean pushed his brother onto the lumpy mattress. The bed was barren of any coverings and so worn that the springs were visible in several places. Bobby guessed that rats were probably living in the thing, and almost laughed at himself for even thinking such a thing when there was a much bigger issue demanding his focus. He tied Sam's feet to the bedposts as Dean sat sprawled across Sam's stomach holding his arms above his head.

"Okay, you get his left arm and I'll get his right."

Dean crawled off the vampire, keeping a secure grip on the wrist of his left arm. He pulled it harshly up against the bed post and tied it in a thick knot. Sam struggled all the while. Bobby was just finishing his knot when Sam's head lurched up and sickeningly sharp fangs pierced into his flesh just below his wrist.

"Balls!" Bobby screamed. But Sam had him in a Rottweiler's grip and he wasn't letting go.

"Sam!" Dean shouted at him in his grisly bass – his command voice. Sam didn't hear him or didn't care. His teeth sunk in further and he drank from the arm in deep, noisy slurps that made Dean sick to his stomach. What had gotten into Sam? Just five minutes ago he was perfectly fine! Well, maybe not perfectly fine…but not a wild animal!

Dean reached towards the scene, but Bobby batted him away with his free hand.

"Don't!" he warned in a rasping, strained voice. "He's got those fangs in there real good, Dean. If you pull on him he'll rip a real good chunk outta my arm right where the vein is." The hunter's teeth were grit in pain, and his breath was ragged against that shooting agony.

"What do you want me to do?" Dean asked, his own heart thumping wildly now. But Bobby made no move to answer him. The pain was too great, and Sam was just so hungry. He could feel the blood rushing out of him, and he was helpless to stop it. So Dean did the only thing he could think to do. With a quick "Sorry, Sammy," he grabbed a loose board from beside the bed and slugged his baby brother over the head with it. Hard.

Sam was out, and so were his teeth. From Bobby's arm that is. The older hunter grasped the pained limb with his good hand and winced. That was going to sting for a while! Dean took off his outer shirt and shredded it before tying it around the injured arm. Then he glanced once more at his "sleeping" brother, determined that he was okay and would probably be totally healed by the time he regained consciousness, and pulled Bobby from the room.

"That's a vampire!" the older man growled at him the second he closed the door.

"I know that!"

"Well, you could have at least warned me. I almost lost my damn arm."

"Well, you didn't, did you?" the younger hunter reasoned defensively. Bobby decided to just let it go. He fixed Dean with a stern look instead.

"Look, I got a machete in the truck-"

"No!"

"Dean-"

"I said no!" Dean shouted venomously. "That's my brother you're talking about."

"Look, Dean," Bobby started with a heavy sigh, "you have to know that ain't Sam anymore. It's a vampire. I know it's hard, but we're gonna have to just face the facts. You can't think he wants to go on this way?"

But Dean wasn't to be persuaded. Not after everything he'd been through in the past 24 hours. That was still his brother, vampire or not. He'd seen that. He was certain of it. Sam was Sam. Whatever just happened…there had to be an explanation for it. There just had to be. Sam was…Sammy. Always.

"No, Bobby. You're wrong," he said at last. "He wasn't like this before. I swear it to you, old man. He was Sammy. We were talking and everything."

"Well, maybe that's so. But he sure ain't Sam now," Bobby argued. Dean was being a damned fool. An idjit. He knew where the boy was coming from, sure. But if Sam really was Sam, somewhere deep within that hungry vampire exterior, then Sam didn't want this life.

"Please, Bobby…" Dean was begging him. "You have to believe me. We can help him. Get him on cow's blood or something. He won't drink it now, but we can get him to Lenore. She'll know what to do."

Bobby ran a calloused hand over his grizzled chin, but his resolve was already breaking down. He sighed. Oh, Sam…

"What happened to him? And how is it you're still here?" he asked at last.

And Dean told him a tale he wished he'd never had to hear.

* * *

Dean paced, stopped, ran his fingers through his short hair, and then paced some more. Bobby was watching from the armchair where Sam had been sitting when he first arrived. They were trying to figure out their next move because leaving Sam tied to a bed screaming and giving himself rope burn was not going to work out.

"I think the solution is right in front of us," Bobby ventured after a while. Dean stopped the frantic pacing at last and turned to face his father figure.

"I already said I won't kill him," he reminded the man. He took both hands and placed them intertwined on the back of his head.

"Nah, I wasn't talking about that," Bobby explained. He was watching Dean knowingly. Sam screamed in the background and both men cringed. Bobby continued: "He's just hungry, Dean. You've got to feed him."

"You think I haven't tried that? I have a whole jar of cow's blood that he refuses to drink."

Bobby chuckled, inappropriate as it may be. "Sounds about right. He's always been a picky eater."

"This isn't funny, Bobby," the younger hunter warned impatiently. He resumed his pacing, even more frantic now as the screams grew louder and louder. That rope wouldn't hold him if he was determined enough to escape. Dean knew that perfectly well. The youngest Winchester was resourceful, bright, and determined. Of course, at the moment he was more like a wild animal and perhaps clear thought wasn't even possible.

"No, it ain't," Bobby admitted at last. "But he needs to drink something. You'll just have to get him something else." Sam screamed like something was ripping him apart. _Way to be melodramatic, Sammy _Dean thought.

"Fine."

He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked, cutting him off by grabbing him by the arm and tugging him back. Dean turned his head and looked him right in the eye.

"To get him some blood," he said seriously, as if it was the most normal confession in the world. The word "human" was left out, but they both heard it. Sam wasn't going to drink anything else right now. Stubborn, stubborn Sammy.

Bobby released Dean's elbow and nodded: "Just don't get arrested."

And Dean was gone, leaving Bobby alone in an empty house filled only with the desperate, angry screams of the remnants of the boy he helped raise. The pieces that remained.


	6. Wisconsin

**Chapter 6: Wisconsin**

It was all Bobby could do to stand it, sitting in a hard wooden chair at Sam's bedside and watching the boy struggle and shriek like someone was sticking him full of tiny knives. Eventually, well after an hour, he stilled. That didn't make it any easier on poor Bobby's nerves, though. Sam was too quiet for his own good if you asked him. The vampire just lay there staring straight ahead, zero expression on his face, fangs still out, and chest as still as the rest of him.

"So…Dean should be back any minute now," Bobby said awkwardly. What? Someone might as well at least attempt conversation here and it didn't look like Sam was going to initiate it any time soon.

Sam didn't respond. Predictably.

"You fool idjits are going to be the death of me," the gruff hunter continued. "It was the same when you were boys. Something happened to one of ya, and the other just threw caution to wind to make it better. I remember this one time," he mused with a chuckle, "Dean and your Daddy were out hunting a kelpie somewheres in Wisconsin and you were stayin' with me at the time. You were barely eight years old. Anyway, Dean tripped over some big rock at the river bank and twisted his ankle up pretty bad…" Bobby stopped his story to spare Sam a glance, see if the boy was listening (if he was even capable of listening). It was hard to say.

"So anyway," he went on, "John calls me up to tell me how the hunt went and there's that brother of yours hollering in the background like the damn limb just fell off. And of course you hear your brother screamin' from where you're sittin' because that boy's got a real set of lungs on him." Bobby shook his head fondly at the memory. "So later that night I call you down for dinner, but you're nowhere to be found. You gave me a real scare, ya idjit. I searched the house high and low, and you sure as hell weren't in it. I found you two miles down the road, an eight-year-old kid, trying to hitch a ride to Wisconsin."

"I remember that," a small voice startled Bobby out of his reminiscence. "I remember thinking, if it was Dean he would have made it to Wisconsin."

"Sam?" Bobby asked hopefully. "You with me, boy? You lucid?"

Sam turned to look at him then, really look at him for the first time since the older hunter arrived. His eyes were clear hazel, stained with tears and a despair that made Bobby's heart ache, but undeniably Sam all the same.

"Hi, Bobby," the younger boy said with a nervous crack to his voice and a small, hesitant smile that flashed a set of fangs seeming so out of place in that mouth.

"Well, hi there, Sam," Bobby said, unable to hold back his own tears as he pushed his chair forward with a heavy creak. Suddenly, Sam's demeanor changed entirely and he shook his head vehemently.

"No, Bobby, don't get any closer," he warned. "It's not safe."

Bobby backed off immediately, returning to his original position. After all, Sam knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. Bobby was just glad that the kid recognized him again.

"All right. Anything you say, Sam," he placated. The vampire seemed to calm down for a second, but then his eyes drifted down to the hunter's bloodied and bandaged arm and his face immediately contorted in mortification.

"I did that," he said. "I don't remember doing it, but I remember the taste. I'm so hungry. You smell so good to me right now, Bobby."

Bobby couldn't stop the shudder that went through him at his near-son's admission. It was pretty creepy to say the least! But he didn't want to respond badly to the boy and make him feel even worse for something he had no control over, so instead he tried to lighten the mood.

"Well, that's a first!" he said with a chuckle. "I never thought I'd hear anyone say that to me."

Sam didn't laugh.

"Where's Dean?"

"He'll be back soon. He went to get you something to eat."

"He went to get blood. You can just say it."

"Sam…" Bobby sighed, not really knowing how to comfort the boy. Balls, this sucked! Why did it have to be freakin' vampires? At least if the boy was a werewolf they could just tie him up during the full moon and he could at least pretend to be normal the rest of the time. But no! Life was complicated, Sam was a vampire, and that kid was going to have to face that every damn second of every damn day and it was never going to be easy.

"You have to kill me, Bobby."

"What?" He couldn't have heard that right, could he?

"It'll be easier while he's gone," Sam explained. "He'd never let you do it if he was here. He'll be upset, but he'll understand. Eventually. He just needs time to get used to the idea, but I know he'll forgive you. He can't face it now, but you and I both know-"

"Now you just stop right there!" Bobby shouted, slamming his fist against the wall to make sure this kid was good and listening. "You think I'm sitting here telling you stories because I like to hear myself talk? I'm making a point to you, boy, and you're going to shut up and listen. I know this situation sucks balls, and if I was in your position I'd be asking the same thing you are. But this is what a hunter's life is, Sam, and you two idjits signed yourselves up for it-"

"I never wanted to be a hunter!" Sam interrupted angrily, yanking hard at his confines and eyes flashing with predatory rage. Like that was going to shake Bobby!

"Then you should have stayed out when you got out!" Bobby yelled back. He could get angry too, and Sam needed to hear this. He hadn't had as many fatherly talks with Sam as he should have. With Dean, sure. But Sam was the responsible brother, the one who knew what he wanted and had all his crap together and his ducks in a row. Bobby regretted it now, though, because it turned out Sam didn't have one god damned thing together. He was a mess, just as much as Dean if not even more so. Sam was the kid being pulled in every direction until he was so twisted, so knotted up inside, that he didn't know up from down anymore. Sam was the kid with nowhere to go and no one to talk to because everything in his life was one great big secret. Sam was the kid made to feel like an outsider in all of his environments, too abnormal to truly fit into the standard world of school, friends, relationships, but too different from John and Dean to feel a valued part of his family of hunters either.

It was one big Winchester puzzle, and Sam set himself aside as some warped piece that no matter how you turned it would never fit into place. What he couldn't see was that none of the pieces fit just right, all too disfigured by a fire that happened over 20 years ago. So Sam put a sign on his back, a label saying "I don't belong here. I'm normal. Please believe me!" But Sam was the one who didn't believe it, who looked in the mirror each night and called himself freak.

And now that he was a vampire? Well, that was the ultimate confirmation that Sam just didn't need right now.

"You should have stayed out, Sam," Bobby repeated. "And that brother of yours should have got out with you. I tried to tell John that, but that idjit never listened to anything I ever had to say. Why do you think I ran him off my property and threatened to fill'm full of buckshot? I tried to warn him where a hunter's life was going to get his boys. Sooner or later, no matter how good you are, you get killed by something you're hunting…or you get turned into it."

"No kidding," Sam grumbled. "But there's no going back now. What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to keep being that stubborn kid that snuck out my back door just to get to his injured brother 400 miles away," Bobby told him with a knowing smile. "Listen, Sam, I ain't telling you this is gonna be easy. But Dean's not ready to let you go. You know that. And if your actions in the last couple of days tell me anything, then you're not ready to let him go either. If you want to be the kid that makes it all the way to Wisconsin, then you do it. But you lean on me and your brother for support along the way, you hear that? Because an eight-year-old alone on the highway in the dark? That ain't never okay, Sam. Never. Besides, didn't I take you straight to that brother of yours minute I found you?"

"You sure did," Sam answered. The tears in his eyes were no longer sad.

**-SPN-**

The unmistakable creak of the front door interrupted the much needed conversation. _Dean_, the two men registered in unison. Suddenly Dean entered the small bedroom with a black duffle slung across his shoulder and tired yet accomplished smile on his face.

"So what's going on in here?" he asked, noticing Sam seemed calmer and more lucid. He still looked about to keel over at any second, though.

"Just catching up," Bobby said. "You get what you needed?"

Sam's eyes widened and followed Dean's gaze to the duffle. There was blood in there; he could smell it.

"Yeah, but man, those blood banks are more secured than you'd think. Cameras and security guards, and this dork in clerical with a major attitude." Dean shook his head at the memory as he hoisted the bag uncomfortably farther up his shoulder.

"Run into any trouble?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

Sam's stomach took that moment to make its presence known, grumbling hungrily in anticipation. Dean glanced over at the sound and spotted his brother straining against the confines of the bed, eyes glued to the duffle like a big, dumb dog catching scent of a prized steak.

Right. Dean dropped the bag to the dusty floorboards with a loud thud. Leaning down, he unzipped the bag and shuffled quickly through the contents. A second later he was pulling out one of the blood bags. It was unnerving the way Sam watched his every move, focus never leaving the bag of blood. It was like a cat regarding its prey, eyes locked and glued and head turning with every scant movement.

Sam wasn't going to leave him any time to find a bottle or anything. Anyway, the vampire looked like he needed to sink his teeth into something so Dean figured it was best to just give him the bag as is.

He approached slowly, not knowing what state of mind his little brother was in at the moment. When he was within reach he held out the blood bag. Sam accepted it greedily, teeth slicing into the plastic with eager determination as Dean held it in place. He drank deeply and impatiently, and Dean felt his own stomach lurch at the sight.

The last thing he needed was to throw up in front of Sam. Make the kid feel even more self-conscious. So he did the big brotherly thing and held it together.

"I think you can untie him now," Dean told Bobby with a nod towards the ropes. To be honest, he really didn't want to keep holding the blood bag for Sam. He would if he had to, but…

Bobby saw the look of distress on the young man's face, shot Sam a quick evaluating glance, determined the threat to be minimal, and untied the boy. Sam's large hands immediately fisted around the plastic bag and massaged out every last ounce of blood he could get.

Dean, having let go, backed off and looked at the floor until Sam finished. When he finally looked back up what he saw shattered the little composure he had left. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed. He held the now empty blood bag tightly in his lap and stared down at it in complete horror. Dean never saw his brother look so broken - never imagined _anyone_ could look this broken.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean spoke softly as he sat down next to his brother and rested a comforting hand against his cold back. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to figure this out."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to drink blood."

"I know," Dean said sadly. "But this will work for now. I know you'd rather be on animal blood, man, and we'll make that happen. I promise."

"Don't make me any promises, Dean. Not ones you can't keep," Sam said, defeated.

"Lenore can help us. We have to believe that. Get some rest, kiddo. We'll head out in a bit, and we _will _find her."

Sam nodded his head in reluctant agreement before looking back hopefully.

"Hey, Dean?" he asked. "Maybe we could check in Wisconsin?"

The older Winchester turned a curious face toward Bobby who sat watching the interaction with a small smile. Wisconsin? Why would Sammy want to go there?

"You got a lead for us, Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Nope," the older hunter replied. "Sam and I were just doing a little reminiscing while you were gone."

Now Dean was even more confused, but after seeing how hopeful Sam looked despite everything that was going on…

"Okay, Sammy," he conceded with a pat on his brother's back. "We'll go anywhere you want to. We've gotta start somewhere, so why the hell not Wisconsin?"


End file.
